Worth It
by psychopixi
Summary: When Willow is asked to teach DADA, getting on with the students is the least of her worries. With an Order member kidnapped, and the students loyalties being tested to the limit, will she be able to pull everyone together?
1. Worth It Prologue

**Worth It**

**Prologue**

In a warm and cosy office, at the top of a castle in the North of Scotland somewhere, invisible to muggle eyes, a heated discussion was going on. The participants, unwilling though they may have been, were an old wizard, with long white hair and a beard hiding the wrinkles on his face; a prim and proper witch, with a stern expression masking what could have been pleasant features, her hair scraped back from her head into the tightest of buns, and a greasy, unpleasant looking wizard, robed all in black, a permanent sneer etched on his miserable face.

Albus Dumbledore turned his back on Snape in exasperation. For an hour now they had been arguing the same old point and Severus was loathe to give in. Albus had tried being reasonable, tried being stern and even sunk as low as to cajole the reluctant potions master to come around to his way of thinking, though none of the methods had worked. After looking out of the window and contemplating the colour of the highland sky for a minute he turned back, and found two pairs of eyes boring into him.

"Come Severus," the elder wizard chided, "it would be most advantageous to have her here. Her magical abilities alone would be invaluable in aiding us in this unfortunate time, yet I feel that she would be the most helpful in teaching our students…" he paused, and smiled as though amused by his own thoughts, "well, shall we say that she will teach the children what they need to know."

Severus snorted at this, a large part of his displeasure stemming from the fact that the subject the young witch was being called to Scotland to teach was Defence Against the Dark Arts. This was the position he had been coveting for years and sometimes he felt that the headmaster denied him it purely out of spite.

"Severus," Dumbledore's tone was reproachful now, "you know that I need you as a potions master, who else is half as skilled as you?" This much was true, although the flattery did little to help ease the scowl on the sinister man's countenance. Confusion flashed through momentarily as he wondered if the headmaster had known what he was thinking. _Probably better not to insult him in hearing… or thinking distance,_ he mused silently, eliciting a grin from man watching him.

"And there is the prophecy to think of too."

Snape's scowl set further. "The ramblings of a vampire, trapped in perpetual childhood? Albus, I expected more sense from you."

"It cannot harm though, to have a young witch who so accurately matches the prophecy," Albus smiled at him, "can it?" An uncomfortable silence set in, with Snape unable to think of an argument, yet still unwilling to give his support to Albus' scheme.

"So, it is settled then!" Snape looked up in surprise at this sudden announcement; he could have sworn that he hadn't agreed to anything. Before he had a chance to protest Albus had hastily handed a sealed letter to Minerva McGonagall and sent her from his office. After closing the door he slowly paced back to his desk, and took up his seat once more, making sure he was quite comfortable before acknowledging Severus' remaining presence. The potions master was glaring at him once more, annoyed the old man had ignored his protests, and Dumbledore sighed inwardly before addressing the irate teacher. "She will help this school Severus. Give her a chance, she might even help you too."


	2. Worth It 1

Worth It

Chapter One

It was an ordinary summer day, and Willow Rosenburg was fighting for her life. The heat had driven her to leave her balcony doors open over night, something anyone who had grown up in Sunnydale should know better than to do, but she'd grown over confident in her abilities as a witch, and this was the price she would have to pay.

Her screams brought her best friend – Buffy Summers - to her aid, at the expense of her newly varnished bedroom door. As Buffy's slayer training kicked in she dropped into a fighter's stance, and then creased up laughing, leaning back against the now slightly splintered door.

"It's not funny Buffy!" shrieked Willow, trying to bat away a rather enthusiastic owl. It had been sitting on her bed head when she woke up, and dived straight for her when she'd made to leave the room. Now it was fluttering round her head, it's wing tips brushing past her cheeks and hair. Even more disconcertingly it was making little hooting noises.

"Aw, is our big bad wicca afraid of a li'l bitty owl?" Buffy teased as she neatly caught the bird mid orbit. Willow huffed at her and closed her balcony doors, before doing a stomach flop onto her bed. Turning the little owl over in her hands, and settling its ruffled plumage Buffy noticed it was clutching a cream coloured object in its talons. "Hey Wills, it's holding something."

Willow didn't even glance up; "Is it a frog?"

"Uh… no."

"Okay, day is getting better. Is it evil?"

"The bird?" Buffy examined the feathery bundle in her hands.

"The something."

"I don't think it likes being held still for so long."

Willow peered at her quizzically, "The something?"

"The bird. The something looks kinda… lettery."

Twenty minutes later Giles found himself on the phone to a babbling, yet very annoyed witch; an experience that never gets more fun.

"Ah, Willow, perhaps you should come round and we can talk about this, um, properly."

When the young witch finally arrived, over an hour later, Giles had had suitable time to ponder whether inviting a pissed off, and very powerful witch over was really something he should have done. Opening the door to have her storm past him, brandishing a piece of parchment, and a confused barn owl rather cemented the thought that it –hadn't- been one of his cleverer plans.

"You're so in the poop Giles!" Buffy announced as she followed Willow in, finishing off her frapuccino.

_A pissed off, powerful witch on a sugar high. –Definitely- a bad plan. _Giles tried to look apologetically at Willow, and managed somewhere between 'Oops' and 'I have to change my underwear…' He sat down in a chair opposite the sofa, where she'd thrown herself, and watched the barn owl warily, before realising the worst it was going to do to him was possibly try to remove a finger. It seemed an almost welcome alternative to dealing with Willow.

"So. Yes. Willow." Giles glared at Buffy, who was grinning happily at him from her vantage point out of Willow's vision. "Willow, would you like to explain to me exactly what has happened?"

"It's from Hogwarts, Giles. You know, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Albus sends his regards, by the way."

"Ah." He took the letter, and studied its contents, not allowing a flicker of emotion to cross his face, lest it betray what he was thinking.

"I don't get it Giles. You saw how much trouble my magick got me in. Why didn't you tell me I could go somewhere and be taught how to use it?"

Giles sighed, removing his glasses and cleaning them absent-mindedly. "It would not have worked Willow. Students start in Hogwarts at the age of eleven, having shown signs of magickal ability before then. You started so late, and you taught yourself Wiccan magick."

"What difference does that make? So our Wills is a jew-wiccan, so what?" Buffy chimed in, pushing away from the table she'd been leaning against, and walking to sit on the back of the couch, next to Willow.

"Wiccan magick is never as powerful as wand magick. I mean, it should not be as powerful, though Willow is proof that that is no longer the case. The point is, Wiccan magick is not respected in the wizarding world, with Wiccans being seen as barely above squibs."

"Squids?"

"Squibs, Buffy, do try to listen," said Giles, cleaning his glasses on a handkerchief he'd removed from his top pocket, "Squibs are people who are born to wizarding parents, yet have no magickal abilities themselves. Sending Willow to live and learn with these people would not have helped her. I thought that perhaps I could try and guide her," Giles turned to face Willow, meeting her gaze, "I thought I could teach you Willow, but you surpassed my abilities long ago."

The watcher fell silent, looking at the girls he'd come to regard as his own. When Willow had first shown signs of magick he had thought that it would be nothing more than a passing flirtation with the occult. Wicca was the fashionable religion now, and he knew how much Willow had always wanted to fit in. Then he'd been so caught up in Buffy's life and her training that he hadn't noticed Willow's advances into the world of magick. _Didn't take the time to notice, did you Ripper? _He asked himself. _For all you think they're your kids, you thought the only one you had to teach was the slayer. _

"You should go to Hogwarts," he murmured under his breath.

Buffy stopped chewing the frappucino straw and fixed him with her usual quizzical look, "Giles, did you like, -read- the letter? They want her to teach at this place!"

"I can't do it!" Willow wailed, switching in an instant from pissed off to unconfident and apprehensive. "They want me to teach this class called Defence Against the Dark Arts. I may as well give them my life story and say 'Don't do this and you'll be fine!'"

Buffy rubbed her shoulder as Giles suddenly found another speck of dust on his glasses. "You know it's not like that Wills. You made a couple of bad choices and they set you down a bad path." Willow shrank down in her seat and grimaced. "But you pulled yourself out of it. You got better. Wills, you've got such power, and yes, you did bad things, we're not gonna forget that, but you've done good things too. Hell, you changed so many people's lives. Every girl who can be a slayer, –is- a slayer and that's cause of you."

Sitting on her bed, in the Los Angeles apartment she and Buffy shared, Willow couldn't keep her mind off the letter she'd received. When the girls had left Giles' flat Willow had been convinced that he was right and that she ought to go to Hogwarts, but with nothing but her own thoughts for company, her mind was her own worst enemy, and she was starting to think of all the things Buffy and Giles had brushed aside.

_They want me to teach. Me. Shy little Willow Rosenburg, getting up in front of a class of strangers and teaching them. Well, not so shy any more I guess. But still. Teaching! _

Willow reached over to the small blue CD player on the floor at the foot of her bed and pressed play. Run DMC started telling her how to Walk This Way. With a frustrated groan she threw herself back against her pillows and studied the swirls on the white ceiling.

_They want me to teach children about the dark arts. Why me? I tried to end the world! Go Rosenburg, don't sugar coat it or anything._

She flipped onto her stomach and started absent-mindedly picking fluff off her purple pillowcase.

_Dumbledore – what a name – Dumbledore must know what I've done, so why did he pick me? I can't be the best person to be shaping the minds of children. Alright, they're wizarding children, but they're still vulnerable._

An unwelcome image of Tara, with Glory's hands on her head, flickered through Willow's mind, and she shuddered as it was chased by the memory of her own invasion of Tara's mind. She shook her head, dislodging the thought and checked her watch, groaning once more as she realised it was past ten at night. Rubbing her eyes, Willow shrugged off her clothing, and crawled under the covers, making sure her balcony doors were shut before flipping off the lamp.

She didn't fall asleep easily, laying in bed instead and thinking over all the things that could go wrong, if she were to go to Hogwarts. When she finally drifted off it was to visions of herself, with black hair and eyes, standing naked in front of a class of students who were alternately laughing and pointing, or crying and cowering away from her.

"Willow!"

The banging on her bedroom door brought her abruptly out of her dreams the following morning.

"Willow Rosenburg! Get your witchy bum out here now!"

When Willow opened her door it was to a very red faced slayer.

"You left the damn owl downstairs! –You're- the one that can clean up after it," and with that Buffy flounced off to the bathroom. Willow wandered out to the living room to find a pile of droppings on the floor, and a barn owl pretending to be asleep on top of the bookcase. As she looked up at it, it quickly shut the eye it had been peeking at her with and assumed an owlish air of innocence. Just then Dawn breezed into the room, carrying a dustpan and brush.

"Oh man, you should have seen Buffy's face! It was classic," Dawn laughed and handed the dustpan and brush to Willow, who stared mutely at them for a minute, before growling at the owl, and sweeping up as much of the poop as she could.

"So," Dawn settled herself into the sofa, content to watch Willow work, "you're gonna be leaving us Wills?"

Willow nearly dropped the cloth she'd just grabbed from the kitchen. "Uhm, I don't know Dawnie."

"Cause Buffy said you were going to this, like, witchy school to teach."

"I don't know if I'm going yet, the message only came yesterday, courtesy of this little pest," she stopped her attack on the floor long enough to glare at the little bird, "there's a lot I have to think about."

"I think you should go."

Willow smiled at the simplicity of Dawn's statement. "It's more complicated than that sweetie."

"Well, I figure that you've got the smarts needed to teach, and it'd be cool for you to be with other magicky people who can help you figure magicky stuff out. You know, without random stuff going wrong."

"She's got a point Willow," Buffy chimed in from the stairway, "we're gonna miss you like crazy, but it would very definitely be cool for you to go."

"Uh-huh," Dawn nodded smugly, "cause then Buffy can bring me to visit and I can check out all the cute magickal hotties!"

"Dawn!" The two older girls chided her.

"What! I'm nearly grown up now! I can check out the eye candy if I wanna."

Willow gave up the assault on the carpet, and surreptitiously moved a coffee table over the mark. Plopping herself down on the couch next to Dawn she hugged the younger girl. _Random stuff going wrong. That's one way to describe it I guess._

"So, I guess I should send a letter back with him?" Willow gestured at the owl, which fluffed up it's feathers and hooted at her loudly. It almost seemed to be glaring.

"Uh Wills, I think he's a she."

Snape found himself once more called up to the headmaster's rooms, along with Professor McGonagall. This time the door opened to reveal Albus beaming widely, holding what appeared to be a blank piece of parchment. On closer inspection it contained just two words, in a delicate feminine script; 'I Accept'.


	3. Worth It 21

Worth It

Chapter Two

The following Tuesday Willow's bags were packed and she was sitting in Giles' stuffy little living room, with it's drab off-white walls and the rather thread bare sofa, rounded off with the faded floral print chair that Giles himself was sitting in. Willow was crowded in along with Buffy, Dawn, Xander and shockingly enough, Spike.

The bleach-blonde vampire had been hanging around at Xander's flat, above the carpentry shop the young man now owned, when Giles had rung to pass on the news of Willow's emigration to Scotland. Despite the fact that the two males had never really been comfortable with each other prior to the defeat of the First, after Spike's sacrifice and subsequent resurrection Xander had grudgingly tolerated the British nuisance that seemed determined to 'help' him deal with Anya's death. An endurance that had led to tentative friendship, even if it did mean occasionally finding bagged blood in the freezer.

When Xander had hung up the phone after Giles' call, looking distinctly like he had been diagnosed with cancer of the puppy, it had been Spike that had pried out of him the news that his best friend since kindergarten would now be living on an entirely different continent. Ever since then Spike seemed to have made it his latest mission to stick with Xander, including the trip to Giles' house to say goodbye to Willow.

"Don't credit –yourself- or nothin' Xander," he had said, "I just gotta give my respects to the witch. She's the only one of you buggers that was ever worth bitin'."

Which brought them to where they were now; squashed into Giles' small living room. Willow, Buffy and Xander had monopolised the sofa, though they only just fitted on it. None of them minded. It was unspoken between them, but they were all three enjoying the closeness. The three original Scoobies didn't know when they'd have a chance to be together again, and no-one was about to disrupt the precious time they had left.

Xander was trying to hold back tears, almost glad he had only the one eye to betray his emotions. My Willow, Wills, going to England. Shit, when did we all grow up? We weren't meant to have seen the things we have. I don't remember doing the normal stuff. Now she's leaving and I don't have the chance. He wrapped an arm around Willow, and pulled her closer to him, holding on as though he'd never get the chance to hug her again. God, I hope that's not true.

Buffy was trying to smile on the other side of Willow, telling herself that it was good for Willow to be leaving. We can go and visit. It'll be cool. We can go to Giles-land. Well, kinda north of Giles-land. But we'll see her. Which was my point. She shifted slightly as Willow leaned into Xander. I'm really gonna miss her.

Dawn had perched herself on the arm next to Buffy, and was leaning over, resting her arm on her sister's shoulders so some of her long brown hair ended up tickling Buffy's nose. Dawn was too busy quickly smudging the tears off her cheeks, only to have more replace them, to notice.

"We can come visit, right Wills? And you'll, like, visit us too? You know, when you can." She sniffed and scrubbed at her red eyes again.

Willow wriggled out of Xander's hug and pulled Dawn across Buffy so she could hug her. Dawn squeaked in surprise, echoing the complaint of the furniture, and smacked Buffy in the nose trying to keep her balance. Suddenly they were all laughing, their silent introspection broken by the sight of Buffy indignantly rubbing her nose, while Dawn was sprawled across her lap, legs awkwardly over the arm over the sofa, being viciously hugged by Willow.

"Hey, Giles, where's the sodding milk?" Spike's voice drifted in from the kitchen, where the vampire was currently raiding the cupboards and the 'fridge.

Willow stood up, and let Dawn fall into the sunken seat she had been occupying. Looking at the emotion on the faces of her friends, the people who had stood by her through everything that had been thrown at them, through everything –she- had thrown at them, she couldn't help wondering, for the fiftieth time, if she was doing the right thing. This time the doubts were fleeting and she brushed them aside. She was doing the right thing, proven by nothing more than the fact that the people in the room with her supported her in it.

"I love you guys, all of you…"

"Yeah? Didn't know you were driving stick again." Spike chipped in from the doorway where he was now lounging, drinking a cup of black coffee.

"Okay, first off; eew. Secondly, still gay here, but thanks for caring, Mr Bad-Ass-coffee-drinking vamp. And C, I'll miss you too."

Spike paused with his coffee cup half way to his lips. "Thirdly. We don't count in letters. First, second, third." Looking at his face, half hidden in the coffee cup, Willow could have sworn he'd looked rather pleased, and she smiled to herself thinking that given he'd wanted to kill them all when they had first met, Spike really had changed. Suddenly Giles stood up next to her, pulling her from her thoughts.

"It's time to go Willow."

So soon? But I haven't said all the goodbyes I wanted to yet! A rush of panic coursed through her. I needed to say stuff to people. The dull feeling of butterflies she'd had all day morphed into rats running around her stomach. Clog-dancing rats.

"So, this is it guys." The tension broke as the others all tried to hug her at once, and laughed again at the ensuing muddle. "Buff, if you need me to come back here and help out with anything, just let me know, yeah? And you'd better come and visit! With Dawnie." She turned to Xander.

"Hey, you know Wills, it's gonna be weird to not have my bestest best buddy around any more. Um," He paused awkwardly, "I guess I suck at goodbyes. Just take care?"

"Goddess, I love you Xan. Maybe not in a clothes fluke way any more, but you know there's always been that one little bit of me that's yours, right?" she sniffed, as tears finally threatened to spill down her cheeks. "You're my knight in shining armour. You saved me, Xan. I'm gonna miss you so much." The room was silent as the two oldest friends hugged, until a loud slurp from behind Spike's upturned coffee mug drew their attention.

"What?" He looked around blankly, "What'd I do?"

"Jeez Spike, touching moment here!" Buffy snapped, gesturing at Xander and Willow.

"I put a lot of sugar in it. You know what the sugar's like at the end. All gooey and coffee flavoured. Couldn't let it waste, could I slayer?"

Xander sighed and wandered over to take the coffee mug off the protesting vampire, before smacking him upside the head with his free hand, shrugging at Willow. She giggled at the look on Spike's face before turning back to Dawn and pulling her into another hug.

"I love you Dawnie, just cause I'm across the ocean doesn't mean I'll love you any less. Make sure you bug Buffy until she brings you to visit," she whispered in the girl's ear, "From what I've heard of this place, you're gonna go crazy over it!"

Willow looked Giles, giving her best determined face. "Are we ready?"

"I believe we are. I shall see you others soon."

On her way to the door Willow stopped by a sulking Spike, who tensed up at her attention. "Don't worry, I'm not gonna spoil your evil vamp image by hugging you. Just look after them for me Spike. I trust you to."

She was almost out of the door before he caught her arm. "Just wanted to say that I'll look after 'em and if you ever need help over there or anything, you know, need someone to translate the lingo for you or whatever, then just let me know."

She smiled up at him, "Thanks Spike," and disappeared into the bright sunshine bathing the LA streets.

.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.


	4. Worth It 22

Worth It

Chapter 2 Part 2

"So this is Diagon Alley" Willow stared in wonder at the scenes around her. There were witches and wizards hustling around her, and so many strange and fantastic shops. One shop to her right was selling brooms. The window display held a sleek silver broom, with fire red bristles, and a floating sign above it bore the legend;

**NEW! Falcon X1!**

Another shop, directly to her left, had a large sign above the door saying 'Madam Murgood's Menagerie'. The paint on the sign was old, and bits were flaking off, but looking in through the window, the shop was sparkling and tidy. Animals of varying shapes, sizes and species were in cages along the walls, and a fenced off rectangle in the middle of the shop had a sign on the front saying;

**The Ideal Familiar**

Willow wondered what kind of creature would make an ideal familiar, and soon found out, as a young boy stood on tiptoes to lean over the wobbly green fencing, and emerged again cradling a small, fluffy, black kitten.

Giles looked down at her, pleased she was enjoying herself this far. They'd taken a plane from LA to Heathrow, London, and then taken a cab to this random street where he had taken her inside a rather boring looking pub. Nodding to the barman, he'd pulled her right through the pub and out to the back, where he'd tried poking at the wall. Willow had started to giggle until the wall had shifted, revealing the doorway to Diagon Alley, where she was now simply drinking in the sights it had to offer.

"Yes, this is Diagon Alley. I believe we're meant to be meeting the others outside Gringotts."

"Gringotts?"

"The wizarding bank."

"Oh." Willow's face shifted uncomfortably as though she'd just realised something. "Others? I thought we were just meeting Dumbledore."

"You are something special to the school Willow. To the whole wizarding world. Naturally the people Dumbledore has told about you are anxious to meet you."

Willow frowned slightly. Meeting Dumbledore was fine, he knew all about her. He was the one who had wanted her to come to Hogwarts, but meeting all these other people? Her stomach sank.

What if they don't like me? What if they hate me? They'll know what I've done.

When Giles briskly started off down the cobbled street again it was with a slightly more subdued Willow following him.

Well if they don't like me, that's fine. I'll just not-like them back. Dumbledore wants me. My friends still think I'm good old Wills. Anyone else can just deal.

"Ah, here we are Willow." Giles pulled up to a stop outside an impressive, if slightly wonky building, and ushered Willow in front of him.

Standing in front of her were an old wizard, wearing a purple gown with golden yellow stars on it, and a long grey beard; a tall imposing figure, with lank black hair, a hooked nose and swirling black gowns and a throng of redheads clustered around a young girl with plain brown hair and a nervous expression, and a solemn boy with messy black hair and a scar on his forehead, in the shape of a lightening bolt.

"Ah, Willow," the old man stepped forwards smiling, and took her hand, "It's so very good to meet you, my dear. How are you finding Diagon Alley."

"It's wonderful," Willow murmured, "thank you for meeting me… Professor Dumbledore?"

The old man in front of her chuckled, and his face creased up in wrinkles. All smile lines, Willow noted. The sort of lines that etched themselves onto you after a lifetime of always seeing the good in everything you came across.

"Yes, you are right Miss Rosenburg. Ah, but I am being rude!" He chuckled as though this were some kind of joke, "Allow me to introduce you to Professor Severus Snape," the pale man merely scowled down his rather long nose at her, "Mr and Mrs Weasley," the two adults who were presumably responsible for the red headed army smiled at her.

"Molly, dear." Willow noticed right away that Mrs Weasley… Molly, she corrected herself, had the same kind of eyes as Joyce. Warm, loving and every bit the mother. She choked up slightly, remembering how Joyce had always been more of a mother to her than Sheila Rosenburg ever had. It was Joyce she had gone to when she was sad, Joyce that had comforted them all when they needed it, and Joyce that had made them all hot chocolate with little floating marshmallows. She hoped desperately that Molly would still look at her with mothering eyes when she found out what Willow had done. "It's so nice to have you with us. These are mine," she gestured at the red headed children in front of her, "This is Bill, Fred, George,"

"No, I'm Fred!" George said, pushing forwards, before getting a glare from his mother. "Actually I am George. But I bet you couldn't tell!" He grinned at her cheekily.

"Fred and George are the trouble makers of my little brood," Molly sighed, "so watch out for them. They own Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, a joke shop, and if I were you my dear, I wouldn't accept any kind of food from them. And these two here are Ron and Ginny."

"Hi," Ginny smiled easily up at Willow, her hair glinting almost the same colour as Willow's in the hot August sun, but Ron scowled and said nothing.

It starts then she thought to herself. They've all been told who I am.

"We're not the last though," Ginny blurted out, after subtly standing on Ron's foot, "there's Charlie and Percy too!"

Mr Weasley looked at his wife, who'd paled slightly at Ginny's outburst. Ginny herself had blushed upon realising what she'd said, reaching roughly the same colour as her hair, and was now studiously watching a beetle crawl over Ron's foot.

Ah, family problems there. Best to steer clear of Charlie conversations. Or Percy conversations. Or both? Willow felt confused.

"I'm Harry, and this is Hermione," said the scarred boy, quietly, without really looking at her.

"Nice to meet you," said Hermione, shooting daggers at Ron, who just shrugged at her and attempted to knock the beetle on his right foot, off with his left, kicking himself in the ankle in the process.

"You'll be teaching Harry, Ron and Hermione, Willow," Dumbledore added, "they're sixth years, and Ginny is in the fifth year."

"We're not in school any more," said Fred, gesturing to George, "we left in the middle of our seventh year cause of that old hag Umbridge. Have you heard about her yet? We made these awesome fireworks and…"

"We are all," Dumbledore cut in neatly, "members of the Order of the Phoenix. All of us except Ginny, as she is not old enough yet. It is this Order I would like to speak to you about now."

Molly frowned at Ginny, as the young girl was staring daggers into Dumbledore's back. Willow nearly laughed for the similarities between her and Dawn. Both of them thinking they were so much older than they were. Both unwilling to let others shoulder responsibility they thought they should share in. Both so fiery.

"Shall we, Miss Rosenburg?" Dumbledore jolted Willow out of her reverie, and started off down the street. A few minutes later they stopped outside a small shop. It had a plain white front, with a small sign above the window proclaiming it sold teas, coffees and biscuits. The first thing Willow noticed was how dark it was inside. The room ran lengthways, with the only windows being the two at the front, and the low blue ceiling only had a few candles placed strategically in hanging candelabras. The walls were a similar dirty kind of blue to the ceiling, with wood from half the way down, sanded back to a dark brown. A small greying counter stood in the top right corner, opposite the door, and the wizard behind it gave Dumbledore a sly wink and busied himself cleaning some cups and plates.

Molly immediately dragged Ginny off to one side, and sat her down at a small round table right by the counter. She firmly engaged Ginny in a conversation about school robes, and Willow wondered, as she spotted Ginny straining to get a look at the table the others were sitting on, if it was due to curiosity, or just a strong desire to not have to talk about uniform.

Dumbledore led the others to a long wooden table at the back of the shop. It had a few old armchairs scattered along one length, while the other was parallel to a bench that protruded from the wall, with no obvious means of attachment.

Dumbledore chose one of the armchairs, as did Snape, Mr Weasley and the twins. That left Willow to squeeze onto the bench with the remaining three children, much to the chagrin of the ever-watchful Ginny. She wound up on the end of the bench closest to Dumbledore, next to Harry, and then Hermione. Ron however appeared content to avoid her as much as possible, and sat at the very opposite end of the bench. Hermione seemed to notice his distance, and shuffled along closer to him, in an attempt to make the seating look more casual.

"Now then, Willow, I know you were not expecting this, and I apologise. My owl was about the position of Defence Against the Dark Arts, which I think you would be perfect for," Snape's glare intensified, and Ron snorted, "but I did not think it wise to mention in an owl, what I am now about to tell you."

The door to the coffee shop creaked open, and the people on Willow's table tensed up, until the visitor was revealed to be a small blonde girl, her wand holding her hair into a messy bun at the back of her head, and with a rather dreamy expression on her face. She immediately spotted Ginny and Mrs Weasley, and walked over to them.

"Luna!" Ginny screeched, "Thank Merlin you're here! I've been so bored all summer. They keep dragging the others off to meetings, but of course –I'm- still too young to go." The look on Ginny's face was a perfect indication of whether she felt she was too young to attend the meetings of the Order, and Willow again grinned to herself.

"What do you know about the wizarding world?" Dumbledore addressed Willow.

"I know there's this uber bad guy, Giles told me that on the way over, and I know you've got wizarding schools, cause duh, you've asked me to teach in one. That was a big give away. But I didn't know that there –was- a wizarding world until your letter arrived. Your owl I mean. Man, you can guess how annoyed I was at Giles over that. He made this weird face and everything, like I thought he'd have to change his pants when I looked at him, and, um…"

She babbles. Fantastic. One witch with the power to end the world, and it's a damn Weasley look alike that babbles.

"I can see we've got a lot to catch you up on, Willow. Allow me to introduce you to your 'Wizarding Studies' teachers." Dumbledore grinned happily, and looked around the rest of the table. "Our story really should begin with our 'uber bad guy'…"

.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.

"It's not fair" Ginny moaned to Luna.

Mrs Weasley had gone to the main table to help fill Willow in on what was happening in the wizarding world, leaving the two youngest girls under strict instructions to stay exactly where they were, and not even –dream- about trying to eavesdrop. Since she'd left their table they'd been commiserating one another about the sever unfairness of leaving them out of whatever the Order was planning next.

"We're almost as old as the others, and after all the stuff in the Ministry of Magic last year, not to mention the stuff in the summer," Ginny glanced at Luna, but she still had her usual dreamy expression on her face, "I can't believe they won't let us even listen."

"Maybe we –are- too young, Gin." Luna mused, toying with the strands of fine blonde hair that had escaped her wand-made bun.

"You don't really think so, do you?" Ginny asked incredulously, her indignant rant cut short by her best friend siding with the adults.

"Yeah well," Luna sighed, and switched to fiddling with her necklace of butterbeer corks, her eyes fixed on the table, "what could I do to help this summer?"

An awkward silence fell between them, as Luna traced her fingers over knots in the wood of their table, and Ginny watched her, trying to think of what to say. She'd finally made a real solid friend, in her own year, someone who didn't give a fig that she'd been possessed by the ghost of Tom Riddle in her first year. Luna was so dreamy, half the time Ginny wondered if she even –knew- what had happened. That was silly though, the reminded herself, even if she wasn't aware that the whole school had been whispering about it for weeks after she'd been found out, she and Luna had talked about it in the privacy of the Black household when they'd both been there during the summer.

Luna knew about it, in fact she knew more than anyone else, except for Ginny herself. It just didn't bother her. As she had stated to Ginny, as a matter of fact, possessions happened all the time. Most of the time the person wasn't even aware of it. They would just act slightly differently. Like the muggle who was possessed by the ghost of a mouse, and started squeaking every time he saw a piece of cheese. Ginny didn't exactly believe Luna's stories, but it was comforting to know that her horrific first year didn't matter to the eccentric Ravenclaw.

"Have you heard from Blaise?" Ginny said, tentatively trying to break the silence that had fallen between them.

"No," Luna sniffed and pulled her wand out of her hair. It fell down the sides of her face, and hid her tearful eyes from anyone but Ginny, who was directly opposite her.

"If he dares show his face back at Hogwarts this year, I'll kill him." Declared Ginny, vehemently. She was not about to allow her best, and only friend, to be hurting because of one stupid boy.

That's all he is. He's not some big scary Slytherin, she thought to herself, he's just a boy. Just one year older than me, and about to become a whole lot deader.

Her mind jumped and twirled round the various plans for revenge she had thought about, before settling on the perfect one. Luna had been miserable all summer, and the reason for her tears was about to get one hell of a shock when he got back to school. You did not mess with Ginny Weasley's friends.

.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.


	5. Worth It 3

Worth It

Chapter 3

_Why him?_ Willow thought to herself. _Of all the mean, slimy, poopheads to have to show me around, why did Dumbledore pick him?_

The object of her distaste was the potions master, Severus Snape. After the headmaster had concluded their rather surprising meeting in Diagon Alley he had sent Willow on with Snape, instructing the sour faced man to give her the 'official' Hogwarts tour, before showing her the suite of rooms which were to be hers.

Snape had indeed escorted her to Hogwarts, and was currently showing her around the sprawling school and its grounds. His idea of the official tour seemed to be slightly different to what Dumbledore must have had in mind however. Willow was practically tripping over herself in an effort to keep up with his stride.

_How does he not fall over those robes?_ The logical part of her brain was still functioning, although the rest of her was overwhelmed by the school. She had expected grand, and definitely large, although never in her wildest dreams had she thought she would be teaching in what was, effectively, a castle. 'Large' didn't do it justice. The school was enormous, and Willow felt very small as she half-jogged through the many corridors.

_It's like an ant's nest,_ she thought to herself, _and I feel like an invading ant! _

Huge portraits adorned the old school hallways, with famous witches, wizards and other creatures staring down at her curiously. Willow had given a little scream when she first saw one of the pictures moving to get a better view of her. She'd immediately regretted it as Professor Snape had turned round with a sneer on his face and made a snide comment about the witch who tried to end the world being scared by a mere painting. She couldn't help it though; she was used to magick, in the same way that other people are used to TV dinners, however that didn't mean she couldn't be surprised. The people who were blatantly staring at her from their canvas backgrounds seemed to be looking right through her, judging if she was fit to be in the school or not.

After that rather humiliating episode Snape had taken her to the dungeons, where, he informed her in a brisk, non-committal tone, he both taught and lived.

_It's just right for him,_ Willow grinned as she noted the similarities, _dark, cold and definitely slimy._

From there they had moved back into the main body of the school, and were now standing at the bottom of a huge stairwell that was echoing with grinding noises. As Willow looked up in awe, she had to bite back another squeak, as she discovered the grinding noises were coming from the staircases, which were moving! Whole flights of stairs would grumble and creak their way from one landing to another, and the overall impression was of giants, waltzing to some melody she couldn't quite pick up on.

"The headmaster wishes you to be sorted before the students arrive tomorrow," Snape's voice cut through her imaginings, "so we will go to the Great Hall next."

"Sorted?" she asked cautiously, feeling that this was yet another magickal thing she should understand, and was going to be looked down on for not knowing.

"The headmaster mentioned to you we have houses, yes?" He said, as though addressing a small child, and yes - she was right - he was sneering down his nose at her again. "You are sorted into a house. No doubt you will be in Griffindor." The way he said it made Willow hope against hope that she would not be. It sounded as though being in Griffindor would be yet another thing that she could be picked on for. She didn't really want to be –friends- with the sarcastic man who was her only companion at this point, but it couldn't be a good thing to further distance herself from the people she'd be working with.

Snape opened a towering set of double doors and Willow found herself looking down an imposing hall. Four wooden tables were set out lengthways down it, with benches running along both lengths, and there was one long table at the opposite end, although this one had chairs along the back, and was draped with some form of decorative cloth. More paintings were hung along the walls, and the ceiling resembled a serene night time sky, complete with little twinkling stars.

Snape quickly reached the other end of the hall, his robes billowing out behind him as he walked, and he went directly to the chair in the middle of the table. Willow noticed it was the most ornate of the chairs set out, and wondered it if was Dumbledore's seat. She could imagine him sat there, holding court over all of his students, with his trademark chuckle thrown in every now and then. It was a great difference to her last high school head – the small troll like man had terrorised the students, and had made Buffy's life a misery.

_Of course that was before we blew up the school, and the mayor ate him,_ she thought to herself, before wondering how she could look back on those memories with such complacency.

Snape grabbed something that looked like a rather old, worn piece of leather from Dumbledore's seat and walked back to her. As he straightened out the object in his hands, Willow could recognise it as a very old hat, which he held out towards her.

"Uh, what do I do?" she said uncertainly, taking it from him.

"I know you've had a muggle upbringing, but one would have thought you'd at least seen a hat before now."

Willow stiffened, and glared at him, before pulling the hat onto her head.

"Hmm, what do we have here then?" the hat whispered inside her head, and she started and looked around her, before realising it was the hat that was speaking to her. "Plenty of courage in you child, and a fair helping of darkness too. Clever, loyal, where can I put you? Griffindor maybe?"

Willow's stomach churned. _No, not there!_

"You don't want to be in Griffindor?" The hat seemed surprised. "Well then, I suppose it had better be SLYTHERIN!"

The last word was shouted out loud so it reverberated around the hall, bouncing off the shocked paintings, although none of their expressions could match the look on the potions master's face.

Professor Snape looked as though someone had just hit him with a rather solid book entitled "The Joke's On You".

Willow looked up shyly from underneath the faded leather brim of the sorting hat. "Is that good?"

.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.

The next day the students were returning to Hogwarts, packed into their various train carriages and full of gossip and news from the summer. Ron, Harry and Hermione had managed to get a carriage to themselves, after prefecting duties had been fulfilled, and were now deep in conversation about Hogwarts newest addition.

"She's a bloody dark witch," Ron yelled, "she tried to end the frickin' world, how much more proof do you want?"

This was the line of argument he'd been taking for the last hour, and Hermione's patience was wearing thin. "Yes Ron, she tried. But she didn't actually –end- the world, did she? And now she's very sorry and she's trying to make things better."

"It's gonna take more than her going around saying 'sorry' to make things better, 'Mione!" Ron huffed, "Saying 'sorry' doesn't change the fact that she sucked up enough dark magick to wipe out the world twice over. Willingly. She wanted to, and I don't see how her saying 'oops' proves that she's not bloody evil!"

"Ron! Stop swearing," Hermione chastised. "She –is- sorry, didn't you pay any attention to her in Diagon Alley?"

"You know he didn't," Harry chimed in, "he was still sulking over the fact that his mum made him meet her anyway."

"I was not sulking!" Ron said indignantly, "Anyway, you try saying no to mum."

It was true, Molly Weasley had been more than insistent that every one of her brood that could attend, -would- attend Willow's welcoming party. Ron had protested at first, but Mrs Weasley was a force to be reckoned with when she had made her mind up about something, and there was no getting out of it. Whether Ron liked it or not, he was going to be in Diagon Alley.

Of course, he hadn't liked it, and half of his antisocial behaviour was fuelled by the urge to rebel against his mother's decree. He may have been forced into going to welcome Willow, but that didn't mean he couldn't act as big a prat as he liked, just to prove he wouldn't be bossed about, if nothing else.

Unfortunately for Willow, she got the full impact of Ron's little rebellion, and hadn't made much of an effort to engage him in conversation after her first few attempts were shot down in flames. This, conversely, meant that Ron hadn't had as much of a chance to get to know her as the other two had.

"Look," said Harry tersely, "it doesn't matter at the moment anyway. Can we just get to school without fighting any more?"

Hermione patted his shoulder awkwardly, and Ron even had the good grace to let the subject drop. It had been a trying summer, on top of the tragedy of Sirius' death in the Department of Mysteries, and Harry hadn't been up to much. He wasn't the angry little boy he had been at the start of their fifth year, but he still felt like he had the weight of the world to bear on his shoulders, and nothing was going to change that until Voldemort was gone.

"Sorry Harry," Ron muttered, "so, I wonder what sixth year will be like."

Hermione took the bait and launched into a detailed description of the courses and workload that they could expect, soon even Harry was participating in the conversation. Ron and Hermione shared a secret smile when he wasn't looking. The boy who lived was going to keep on living, and enjoying himself too, if they had anything to do with it.

.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.

In another carriage, further down the train, Luna and Ginny were staring out of the window, watching the green countryside fly past them, and half-heartedly indulging in conversation. Ginny had been curious about Willow ever since the older redheaded girl had left them in Diagon Alley the day before. She had pestered her brothers and parents with questions ever since they got home, although they had not been very forthcoming with the answers, shooing her away with semi-replies and covering up the glaring holes in their responses with the excuse that she was 'too young' to know.

Luna was interested too. She hadn't known that Willow was the witch who had nearly ended the world, and Ginny had had to fill her in on the few sparse details that she knew when they'd been talking in the coffee shop. Her father had unfortunately been on an expedition in Japan, searching for traces of the woolly Kinbug for the past few weeks, and so she hadn't had a chance to ask him about Willow when she went home that night. Not that she minded having the house to herself – growing up with her father had given her plenty of opportunities to get used to being alone, although she knew that her father loved her, and would always come back if she needed him to. That summer she'd almost welcomed the solitude, as it gave her a chance to think about the recent events, and mull them over in her mind.

"Oh! I thought how we could get Blaise back!" Ginny piped up suddenly. "I found this really old book of mum's, which explains about different charms and…"

"I don't want to." Luna said, firmly. "I want to forget about him."

"Oh, but Luna, you haven't heard the best bit yet!" The disappointment was clear in Ginny's voice. "And think how cool it'll be when everyone knows what a skanky, slimy, Slytherin…"

"You called?" This time Ginny was cut off by the carriage door opening to reveal Draco Malfoy posing in the door way, a smug grin dashed across his pale lips.

He pushed off from the doorframe and started to walk over towards Ginny, when Blaise Zabini followed him through the door. He hadn't realised who was in the carriage, and to begin with his thick black hair was covering his eyes. Then he swept it back with a smooth, tanned, and perfectly manicured hand, and looked around him. There was one, slow, moment when Luna and Blaise just stared at one another, and then he abruptly turned on his heel and stalked back out through the door.

Draco paused, and looked across the carriage at Luna, who had gone quite pale, allowing her tear filled blue eyes to sparkle even more brilliantly than normal.

"Weasley," he nodded to Ginny, "Lovegood," and then to Luna, "I believe Mr. Zabini requires my guidance." Draco smiled at the Griffindor girls, and left the carriage, allowing the door the click shut behind him, at which point the tears that had been building behind Luna's eyes finally succumbed to gravity and started to fall, thick and fast.

Ginny was across the carriage in an instant, her arms wrapped around Luna, holding the other girl as she cried, and murmuring vague reassurances into her fine blonde hair.

"It's okay Luna, he's gone now. He's gone." Part of Ginny was boiling up inside at the thought that all Blaise had to do was walk in the room, and he could upset Luna this much. The other part couldn't quite shake off the icy chill that had rushed straight down her spine when she'd looked into Blaise's eyes as he left the carriage.

.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.


	6. Worth It 4

Worth It

Chapter Four

As the students filed into the Great Hall that evening the main topic of conversation on everyone's lips was the pretty redheaded witch sitting on the teacher's table. Most of them were sure that she would be taking DADA; the only course without a teacher at the moment, and yet none of them were really looking forwards to it. The general consensus was that she was too young to actually know anything worthwhile, and though she couldn't be worse than Umbridge, the student body as a whole had learned not to expect too much from their DADA lessons. Willow herself was almost shaking at the thought of having to stand up and introduce herself to the whole school.

_Hi, I'm Willow. My name is Willow Rosenburg. I am Professor Rosenburg. Eeep!_

All of the students looked smart in their school uniform, and Willow felt even more conspicuous in her 'muggle' clothing. After Dumbledore had concluded the small meeting yesterday she hadn't had time to buy herself any robes, or get anything else from Diagon Alley. The kindly headmaster had assured her this wasn't important in the least, and she would be able to visit a village closer to the school, called Hogsmeade, to get all that she would need. It was a nice thought, but she still felt like a sore thumb.

When all the tables were full and the general hubbub had been silenced, the first years were called in and the sorting began. Willow was slightly mollified to see the confusion on Adams, Marie's face as she sat on the tall stool at the front of the hall.

_I guess I'm not the only one that's never seen a sorting hat before._

"Griffindor!" the hat called out, and Willow watched Marie walk shyly to the table that Ron, Harry and Hermione were sitting on. The realization that those three were in Griffindor – the house she had least wanted to be sorted into – settled in her stomach like a lead weight.

_I thought being in Griffindor would be a bad thing. Professor Snape sure seemed to think so. Oh Goddess, of course he'd think it was a bad thing, he's all moody and glowery and evil-like._

"Flint, Francis"

"Slytherin!"

_He's in my house,_ Willow thought, _but he looks like a mini-Snape! He's got the scowl, the lank black hair, the pale skin… What have I gotten myself into? _Her worries came back full force, and she found herself dreading the moment when she would have to stand up and address the school. All of those people looking at her, and they'd know she'd been lumped in with his royal sliminess, and the scowling kid.

Willow looked at the Slytherin table and inspected the children sitting on it. They could have been any other group of kids, if you were just looking over them. As she looked harder, however, she noticed that –this- group had a distinct pecking order. A tall, slim boy, with sleek blonde hair, who she imagined to be in the sixth, if not the seventh year, was evidently well respected amongst the table, as when he spoke, the children around him shut up and listened. On his right sat a tanned boy, his dark black hair just brushing his shoulders. He seemed to be the only one who was willing to interrupt the blonde boy, although he gave off an air of ambivalence regarding this dubious honour.

As she had been thinking, Dumbledore had been giving his welcoming speech, and she caught her name, and tuned in to what he was saying just in time to catch her introduction.

"I know you have noticed a new face among us this year. This is Professor Rosenburg," her stomach lurched, "who will be in Slytherin house, and will be taking you for Defence Against the Dark Arts."

_Ohshitohshitohshit…_ Willow couldn't think straight and just gave a rather watery smile to the assembled children before ducking her head and taking deep breaths, focussing on the table. Luckily for her, this meant she missed the looks on the faces of the Griffindors she'd made friends with the day before. Hermione had frozen where she sat, looking scandalised, Harry just looked disappointed, and Ron looked positively smug.

The Slytherin table were sharing a few looks amongst themselves too, and more than a few mutinous comments were passed about.

"She looks like a Weasley!"

"She looks like a –muggle-!"

"I'm not taking orders from –her-!"

"She'll be worse than Umbridge!"

Blaise stretched, and leaned backwards in his seat, looking at Draco, to see what the unofficial prince of slytherin would make of the latest addition to their house. Draco, however, was unusually silent. His attention was wholly directed at the reaction the news was having on a certain group of Griffindors.

.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.

After the welcoming feast was over the students ambled back to their respective dormitories, chattering amongst themselves and generally causing trouble for their Year 5 prefects. Harry and Hermione spent the walk bracing themselves for the venting they knew Ron was going to do when they got inside Griffindor tower. Almost as soon as they got past the fat lady Ron turned round and took a deep breath, ready to begin his victory speech. The other two each grabbed one of his arms and hustled him over to the fireplace, plonking him firmly down in one of the arm chairs there.

"Don't bother Ron! I know what you're about to say." Hermione sat next to him, and cut his rant off before it had begun – the safest approach when it came to dealing with Ron when he had made his mind up, a trait he had definitely inherited from his mother.

"I was just going to ask if you believe me yet!" Ron muttered.

"Ron, just because she's in Slytherin doesn't mean anything." Hermione countered, after a slight pause. "Not everyone in Slytherin is bad."

"Yeah, well if she's that good, why isn't she in Griffindor? Or if she's as clever as everyone's making out, why not put her in Ravenclaw? Hell Hermione, according to Dumbledore it was her best friend that stopped her from ending the world, so if she's that loyal, why not put her in Hufflepuff?"

"I don't know!" Hermione snapped, looking to Harry for help. He just shrugged and went back to staring into the fire. This was something he'd been doing a lot over the summer, and neither Ron nor Hermione had needed to ask why. Aside from the battle in the Ministry of Magic, the last Harry had seen from Sirius was an angry head, ducking out of a fireplace.

"I'm just saying there's gotta be a reason she's in Slytherin," Ron persisted, "and so maybe till we find out that reason we shouldn't be too friendly with her. She could just be trying to get close to us for some other reason than to be friendly and oh-so-sorry for nearly ending the world!"

"She wouldn't…"

"Luna thought Blaise wouldn't do that either" he cut in, and Hermione fell silent.

Harry, watching the flames flicker and dance, was thinking about Willow too. From what he'd seen of her he had no reason to believe she was anything other than what Dumbledore was saying she was – a very powerful young witch who had made a very serious mistake and was now trying to atone for it. Looking into her eyes, Harry had thought he'd seen a bit of himself reflected back.

Willow had old eyes, like someone who had seen an awful lot while still very young. Harry could empathise with that, and he made up his mind to try and get closer to her, and to find out what it was that had driven her to do what she had done. A young girl like her wouldn't just try to end the world on a whim, he decided, and if the driving force behind her destruction spree explained the look in her eyes, maybe he could prove to Ron that she wasn't the Death Eater he was convinced she was.

.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.

The Slytherins were a lot less subtle about their feelings towards Willow, and no one really bothered to keep their voices low as they mocked her Weasley colouring and muggle clothing. For a Slytherin, born and bred to be elitist and condescending, the insults came too easily. The fact that she had been given the position of teaching DADA, something they knew that their feared and respected head of house coveted, just added fuel to the fire.

"Of course," said Pansy Parkinson loftily, "I suppose if she –is- related to the Weasleys she won't have been able to afford any robes."

Millicent Bulstrode laughed dutifully by her side – something which doesn't look as good when you outweigh the person you're ingratiating yourself to by a good seven stone – and nodded. Most of the Slytherins were as good as cannon fodder; raised to believe they were superior, but not really educated much beyond that. Of course, they all liked to believe that they actually had more than a couple of brain cells to rub together, and in Millicent's case this was correct. She actually had three brain cells.

Pansy Parkinson, on the other hand, was as cunning as she was vicious, and delighted in collecting groupies. Millicent was the latest addition, although the girl was proving more of a nuisance than an ego boost. She did, of course, give Pansy the kind of advantage that Crabbe and Goyle gave Draco, and so she tolerated her. Millicent had also grasped the fact that Pansy liked people to like her, and was gradually introducing the younger Slytherins to this piece of information by way of a subtle pinch or kick if they didn't laugh or nod at the correct intervals.

While Pansy's groupies were fawning over her, and rubbing various bits if they forgot to simper at the right moment, Draco and Blaise were sitting in their dorm room, also talking about Willow. They seemed to be the only members of their house who had mastered the art of subtlety and tact further than a well-hidden pinch, or a quick hex cast from the hip.

"The Dream Team've met her before, they weren't expecting her to be in Slytherin."

"So?" Blaise drawled lazily, "We get a push-over teacher for DADA. We'd have found that out in our first lesson, why's it matter?"

"But why would they have met her before?" Draco was starting to get annoyed at Blaise. They'd only really started talking during the fifth year, and that had only been occasional. Although the events of the summer had led them both to seek each other's company and advice, Draco still wasn't used to Blaise's indifferent attitude to almost everything. The boy normally let life throw what it liked at him, and he just went with the flow. The only two times Draco had ever really seen him flustered was once during the summer, and once on the Hogwarts Express, after they'd walked into the carriage with Ginny and Luna in it.

The unconcerned manner in which Blaise was taking his conclusion about the Griffindors having met the new DADA teacher before was irritating Draco. He'd thought it might have been a significant piece of news, and felt pleased to have been the only person to have noticed the looks on the faces of the Dream Team – Harry, Ron and Hermione. The fact that Blaise seemed so uninterested was making Draco question himself, something he didn't like doing.

"I mean, if she's just an ordinary teacher, why would they have had a chance to meet before hand?"

"Maybe she's related to the Weasleys. Maybe she's a friend of one of their families. Maybe she's Dumbledore's long lost lesbian niece, how should I know Drake?"

"Don't call me that," snapped Draco tersely. He'd put up with the annoying nickname all summer, and now his patience was worn thin. "And don't be so bloody stupid either."

He turned away from Blaise, and walked over to his desk. They were both prefects, and so they'd been given a dormitory to share since the start of the fifth year. It wasn't huge, but it had enough room for two beds, two desks, two wardrobes and an assortment of other possessions. The most important part was the fact that none of the prefects in other houses got the privacy of a two person dormitory, proof of what you could achieve by greasing the wheels a little.

Draco's half had a large trunk by the bed, and a few items of stationery on the desk. Just the bare essentials, Blaise had noted, no real way to know that that part of the room was the domain of Draco Malfoy, one of the most notorious people to grace the halls of Hogwarts. Nothing personal… with one, glaring exception.

Not that Blaise was even meant to know about it. He'd woken in the middle of the night and rolled over in his bed, looking into the room. Draco had been sat up in bed, his wand faintly illuminating a small picture, which he'd shoved back under his pillow when he heard Blaise moving. Blaise had fallen asleep again almost immediately, but when he'd woken up the next day, curiosity had got the better of him, and he'd peeked under Draco's pillow. The picture was of Narcissa Malfoy, Draco's mother, and Blaise had hastily replaced the pillow, feeling as though he had just violated something very personal.

"Come off it, Drake" he emphasised the nickname, and grinned as a small tic developed in Draco's jaw. "There could be hundreds of reasons for the Golden Trio looking all shocked when Dumbledore introduced her. Maybe they've never even met her. Maybe they just thought she was going to be in Griffindor because she looks like a Weasley."

Blaise lay back on his bed, his arms behind his head, happy he'd said his piece. He really didn't understand why Draco was making such a big deal out of the arrival of the new DADA teacher. They'd get to meet her soon enough, so why worry about who she was now, when it could all be explained come their first lesson with her. Blaise had bigger concerns, for all his calm exterior, concerns that focussed not on Slytherin or Griffindor, but on one particular Ravenclaw.

.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.


	7. Worth It 5

Worth It

Chapter Five

Willow was sitting in her rooms after the welcoming feast and trying to gather her wits about her. She felt immensely grateful to Dumbledore for giving her introduction for her, and yet at the same time she felt that maybe if she'd had a chance to speak she could have been a little subtler about things. Just like Dumbledore to cut right to the chase though.

_This is Willow. She's a Slytherin. She'll teach DADA._

That had been it. Willow had heard various murmurs running around the Great Hall, and then the feast has begun in proper and she'd been too busy deciding what to try a bite of next to really think about the reaction from the children. She wondered how Harry, Ron and Hermione were going to have received the news that she was in Slytherin. From what she'd seen, in between mouthfuls, students from different houses didn't really talk to one another.

_I'm their teacher though, they'll have to talk to me,_ she paused and flopped backwards onto the large four poster bed that occupied most of the space in her bedroom, _Willow, you're being stupid. It doesn't matter if you're in another house. Houses don't matter, you can't not be friends with someone just because a stupid hat decided they should sit on a different table to you._

A small, dark part of her subconscious snuck up and whispered at her, _You didn't want to be in their house though!_

_I didn't know what the houses were! It's not my fault._

_No, poor little Willow, nothing's ever your fault is it?_

She quickly wiped that thought from her mind; it had struck a little bit too close to home. _Okay, okay, so it is my fault. No more shirking of responsibilities for this witch, nuh-uh. I'm gonna be organised, and a role model and all sorts of good._

Nodding to herself in decisive satisfaction, Willow looked around her new bedroom. It had been late the previous evening when Snape had finally dropped her outside a long painting, with the brief explanation that the house elves – whatever they were – had brought her luggage up, and that to get in she would need to whisper a password to the painting, and then remember that word, otherwise she wouldn't be allowed back in. She had blindly struggled through what she assumed to be a living room, to a door that had a faint glow emanating from underneath it. When she opened it, she found herself looking into her bedroom – a smallish room, with plain white walls and a single candle lighting it from on top of a bedside table. The bed itself was the focal point of the room, as it was a large oak four-poster. The sheets and pillow were black, and the bedspread and hanging drapes were a rich emerald green to match the curtains and the thick squishy carpet on the floor.

That morning she had been woken by banging on her door and had opened it to find Professor Snape waiting impatiently for her. The day had been spent learning how to teach, as Snape had talked her through lesson plans, the DADA curriculum and how to give an effective lesson. He had acted the whole time as though he were doing her a huge favour, and she was grateful when it came time for the welcoming feast, even though it meant she had not had a chance to return to her rooms.

As she looked around her now she noticed a white door opposite the windows, and an ornate oak wardrobe in the corner opposite the bed. She wandered over to the door and opened it into a small bathroom. The was only just enough room inside it for the white enamel bath, which ran to the left of the door, a hand basin opposite her, and toilet to her right. Backing out again she walked out to the living room and surveyed the dark green leather couch; an ebony desk, with a leather top that matched the couch; two bookcases flanking the desk and finally a small stove, with cupboards either side of it, and above it.

_The decorator could do with some Prozac,_ she giggled to herself, planning how she could bring some light into the place. _Ooh, I wonder if I'm allowed to re-decorate. _Her giggles died as she thought of having to live in the dark, depressing apartment for the foreseeable future. It wasn't a pleasant thought. Willow, despite her rather major lapses in judgement, was a bright, cheerful person, and the colour scheme certainly didn't suit her personality.

Suddenly, a small, olive green creature popped up next to her, making her jump backwards, nearly falling into the desk she'd been debating covering with bright cloth.

"Sorry Miss Willow, Pepper is not meaning to scare you! Master Dumbledore is sending Pepper to bring you to his office, Miss," the little thing chirped up at her.

Willow stared in amazement, _Is this a house elf?_ she wondered to herself.

"Miss Willow?" The elf was still looking at her.

"Um," Willow didn't know what to say, "Pepper, was it?"

"Yes, Miss Willow. I am being your house elf." Pepper smiled proudly, "I am to be taking you to Dumbledore now."

Willow shrugged to herself and followed Pepper out of the doorway.

.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.

"And I just knock, do I?"

Willow and Pepper were standing outside Dumbledore's office, and Willow was beginning to wonder why he had called her there.

_What can he want to talk about now?_ she pondered silently, _Snape's given me all the information I need for my lessons, and Dumbledore's already explained who the Order of the Phoenix are._

She knocked on the door, and it swung inwards with a slight creak, to reveal Dumbledore sitting behind his desk, his seemingly permanent grin still on his face, and Harry Potter on the other side of the desk, twisting round in his seat, so he could see who had just walked into the room. He looked as surprised to see her as she was to see him.

"Miss Rosenburg, you are probably wondering why I have summoned you here, so late at night."

_Yup, that's about right,_ Willow thought, confused.

"Sit down, please. Gummy bear?"

"Uh, no thanks."

She picked the blue chair on Harry's right, and looked up expectantly at Dumbledore. Harry was looking just as confused as she was, although he definitely seemed more at home in the cluttered office.

"You will both recall, of course, the explanation I gave Miss Rosenburg in Diagon Alley, about the Order of the Phoenix, and what we do?" Harry nodded and Willow bobbed her head slightly. It had been an information overload, and she hoped Dumbledore wasn't going to expect her to recall every obscure little fact he had thrown at her.

"What I didn't explain to her was what happened during the summer."

Harry nodded and relaxed slightly, picking at a loose thread on his chair. Willow, on the other hand, tensed up and sat further forwards in her chair. In Diagon Alley Professor Dumbledore had ended his tale after the happenings in the Ministry of Magic, and Willow had thought that she'd picked up on something that wasn't being said.

"This summer the Death Eaters carried out one of their most audacious attacks since the last time Voldemort was around. They targeted one of our pupils, presumably because her father is the editor of the magazine 'The Quibbler'. Although Cornelius Fudge – the Minister for Magic, if you recall Willow?" Dumbledore looked enquiringly at her, and she nodded slowly, "Although Fudge has not allowed the Daily Prophet to report on the activities of some well-known Death Eaters further than naming them, Mr Lovegood took it upon himself to give detailed accounts of what these men and women are actually doing… with a bit of artistic license, shall we say?"

Willow frowned and raised a hand to her lips, toying nervously with one of her nails. "The student, is he okay? Or she? Are they okay? What happened?"

"Luckily we had inside information about the attack, and were able to send aurors to Miss Lovegood's home just before the attack occurred. Those sent included Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Nymphadora Tonks. They were able to rescue Miss Lovegood, who is back in school this term after spending some time with you, I believe, Harry?"

"Yeah, I went to Grimmauld Place with the Weasleys when we heard," said Harry. "Kingsley brought Luna over. He… He was…" Harry's voice shook, and Willow felt uneasy.

_I wanted to know this._

Dumbledore continued the story for Harry, "I am afraid Mr Shacklebolt was very badly injured in the confrontation. Mr Weasley immediately took him to St. Mungo's but it was too late for the mediwitches to be able to help him."

Willow's breath caught in her throat. When Dumbledore had told her about the Order of the Phoenix he had mentioned that Kingsley Shacklebolt was a loyal member, doing everything in his power to help Dumbledore. Willow had liked the sound of him, and had hoped she would be able to meet him. To learn of his death in such a brusque manner was a shock, and she felt her stomach clench as she willed herself not to get too emotional.

_You'd never met him Willow, you're being selfish._ It explained why Harry had appeared so sullen in the small coffee shop, Dumbledore had brought up two subjects which were still painful for him to think of; Sirius and Shacklebolt. _If they can talk about the man and not get all weepy, the least you can do is hear them out without embarrassing yourself,_ she scolded herself.

"So, you want me to… what? To join the Order? Take his place?" Willow could hardly believe she was saying it. It was harder to believe that that was what Dumbledore had called her there to propose. It was too soon, surely. To step into a dead man's shoes, and try and do a job that he'd been trained to do since school, while she had been struggling to control her magicks? It seemed ludicrous, and the solemn expression on Dumbledore's face indicated that he hadn't been suggesting that.

"No, Miss Rosenburg, I'm afraid the story does not end with the tragic loss of Mr Shacklebolt."

Willow felt herself starting to sweat, although the windows in the small office were open, letting in a stiff breeze. This was serious. This was not what she had been expecting when she had had to summon all of her courage just to reply to Dumbledore's owl, and to agree to teach in Hogwarts. Part of her was screaming at her to just leave the room then, to not listen to the end of the story because she knew in her gut that it couldn't have a happy ending. The rest was holding her still, the morbid curiosity within her forcing her to find out what happened next.

As though aware of her internal dilemma the door to Dumbledore's office swung open once more, to admit Severus Snape, who, upon noticing the occupants of the room, chose to merely close the door and lean upon it, than to submit himself to having to socialise with the two people who were currently the biggest thorns in his side.

_Guess that's option one out of the window._

"As I was saying, the story does not end there. I told you that the aurors sent included Kingsley Shacklebolt, and also a Miss Nymphadora Tonks. Unfortunately the third auror, Jon Auld, had only just graduated from the auror academy, and was subsequently inept enough to get himself knocked unconscious very early on in the encounter." Dumbledore's face remained impassive, but his voice clearly conveyed his anger. "I warned Fudge that we would need more personnel, but the stubborn fool that he is, he refused to allow any more aurors to help us. His excuse was something along the lines of us only having sketchy information, which was from an unreliable source. The Death Eaters naturally realised their arrival had been anticipated, and abandoned Miss Lovegood in favour of taking Nymphadora Tonks, instead. They apparated out of the Lovegood estate with her, in order, we believe, to question her about how their attack had been discovered."

Dumbledore looked older, as Willow stared at him, shocked. His brows were knitted together in worry and his voice was wearing down, growing weary under the weight of the tale he had to tell. Willow in that moment could see how the war against Voldemort was taking its toll on the upbeat headmaster.

_Losing your parents must be terrible, and Harry's lost the first hope of a family again just this summer. Now he's lost one friend, and had another taken by Death Eaters. I can understand why he seems so quiet now. But Dumbledore… Dumbledore's spent a lifetime losing people that he must have come to regard as his family, and he still keeps going. He's only human, but he still keeps a smile on his face, and makes sure that others keep on smiling too._ Willow's respect for the headmaster increased tenfold, as she realised how strong the man must be to keep fighting, and to inspire others to take up the good fight as well.

"She will not be able to tell them what they want to know, either." Dumbledore continued, "That information is bound up by a spell, and only the secret keeper may reveal it. Nymphadora knows the answer, but she physically cannot tell them, not even to save herself from torture. This is both the best luck we could have, and at the same time a great sorrow to me. Voldemort is not stupid, he will guess that Nymphadora knows the answer to his questions, and he may torture her until he realises that it is the secret keeper he needs. However, while he thinks there is a chance he can break the spell and force her to tell him anyway, he will keep her alive."

_Oh Goddess, _Willow's mind reeled as she tried to comprehend the agony of being put through torture, and knowing she could save herself if she could only speak one word, to give the name of the source of Dumbledore's information. She wasn't a fool; she realised that once Voldemort had the name then his use for Tonks would be over, and she would be killed, but she also knew that there were worse things than death.

"How do you know he hasn't found this information out already?" she finally found courage enough to ask.

"Because," came a dry voice from over Willow's left shoulder, "I am still alive."

"You?"

The disbelief must have been evident in Willow's voice, as Snape snapped back at her, "Yes, me! What, do you imagine me to be totally useless, or merely spineless?"

"I… I didn't…" she stuttered under the force of his wrath.

"She meant nothing by it Severus, you know I neglected to mention your position to her, you would have been equally insulted if she hadn't shown surprise. Ignore him Willow, he has never been the most pleasant of people."

Willow could have sworn she heard Snape growl.

Dumbledore took a deep breath, "Aside from the fact that Nymphadora cannot tell Voldemort that it is Professor Snape who has been defecting, we have one more bit of good news. We believe we know where she is being held. From what Miss Lovegood was able to tell us, it sounds like it was the Zabini's who organised and initiated the attack, and it was Mr Zabini that Luna identified as being the one to apparate out of her house, holding onto Nymphadora."

.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.


	8. Worth It 6

Worth It

Chapter Six

As Willow slowly made her way from Dumbledore's office that night her mind was working overtime. The headmaster had asked her if she would help them rescue Tonks. Although she desperately wanted to help, and to prove that she was still a good guy, she felt slightly daunted by the idea of helping in a rescue mission where curses and hexes would be flying, and she just might have to use her magick to kill someone.

Again.

Dumbledore had assured her that it would not come to that, the Order was intent on getting inside the Zabini estate, grabbing Tonks, and getting back out again, hopefully undetected.

Willow had smiled weakly at him, thinking to herself that that wasn't going to be the way things panned out. If Tonks was being held at the Zabini's place, then there would be guards around her, both human and magickal. The whole situation was proof enough that the Zabini's were both powerful and skilled, and if it came down to a confrontation between the two sides, then it would be Willow's unique style of magick that was relied upon to get the rescuers safely out of there.

The sound of rapid footsteps caught her attention, and Willow looked over her shoulder to see Professor Snape striding down the corridor towards her.

_Great, I'm just –sure- he's here to offer advice and reassure me._

"What's the matter Miss Rosenburg?" he said derisively. "You seemed so keen to help us the last time we talked."

"I do want to help!"

"Which is why you're running and hiding at the first sign of trouble? You were more than willing to use your magicks to kill us all, perhaps Dumbledore is expecting too much to ask you to help us now."

"That's not fair…"

"Not fair?" He walked forwards and hissed at Willow, "You tried to end the world, you stupid little girl, do you really think you deserve –fair-?"

Willow felt tears beginning to well up in her eyes, and fought to keep her voice level. She would not give this bastard the satisfaction of seeing how his words were affecting her. "I've done other things…"

"Yes, so I've heard," he cut in, "you pulled the slayer out of heaven. Congratulations, what an achievement. Oh, and your latest trick was to activate all the potential slayers, I believe? Now every girl who can be targeted by the vampires and demons, -will- be targeted."

"That's not…"

"Fair? It's certainly not fair on them, no."

"That's not –the way it happened-." Willow emphasised, and a wave of relief went through her as she spotted her painting – the doorway to her rooms - at the end of the corridor. "I was helping. I was doing a good thing."

"Are you trying to convince me, or yourself, Miss Rosenburg?" Snape said smoothly. "No, don't bother answering that one. Just run along to your rooms like a good little girl, and leave the magic to the grown ups."

Willow felt a hot flush spread across her cheeks, and the tears she'd been holding back finally started to fall. She quickly covered the distance left to her door, and glanced over her shoulder as she whispered the password. Professor Snape was still stood in the corridor, and Willow hurried through the doorway, slamming the door closed behind her.

.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.

Professor Snape, left standing in the hallway outside Willow's rooms, was actually surprised. He'd been baiting her with the sole purpose of eliciting a response, although he had expected the girl to stand up for herself and tell him where to stick his opinions. The masochist in him thought she might even give him a personal demonstration of her power.

He hadn't bargained on tears.

Not that a crying female was a new thing to the potions master; more than once he had managed to reduce a female student to tears by criticising her work. He'd even had a few of the boys sniffling, especially the first years. He'd never actually felt bad for doing it though.

Not that he felt bad now, he told himself as he walked back to his rooms.

_Her tears were merely surprising. I have no reason to feel… guilty. _Even as his internal monolog spat the last word out with disgust, a seldom-experienced emotion was starting to gnaw away at him.

By the time Snape had reached his own rooms, hidden away in the dungeons, he was feeling decidedly disturbed. He was not supposed to care that he had made someone cry. It was one of the things he did best – after potion making and acting the loyal Death Eater. It was one of the reasons his act was so convincing. So why had Willow's sudden vulnerability made him feel like a complete heel?

_I do not care about the stupid little chit._

Snape had once delighted in breaking through people's carefully structured defences and rendering them vulnerable. You couldn't just sneak into the Death Eaters, after all. You had to be serious about it. Dedicated.

He had once been the perfect Death Eater. Intelligent, loyal and talented. Looking back, Voldemort really should have known better than to kill Lily Potter. Years may have passed since they were in school together, but she was still his one weakness. When Voldemort had gone to the Potters' house that fateful night, he had assured Severus that Lily Potter would not be harmed. Snape had believed him, thinking that he had never once asked for a favour or reward; surely Voldemort would allow him this one indulgence as thanks for his loyal service.

When Lily Potter died, so had Severus' loyalty to Voldemort.

Now where was he? Stuck teaching a load of brats that didn't have a clue he regularly risked his neck for them, spying on the Dark Lord himself, and bringing information back to Dumbledore.

_And what good has it done?_ he asked himself. He was able to prevent the Zabini's seizing Luna Lovegood, but that was small consolation compared to learning the previous year that all his spying might easily have been in vain as a young American witch nearly ended the world.

Snape had taken the whole thing rather personally, insulted that he could have died because the foolish Wiccan thought she knew what suffering was.

_I think I should know what suffering feels like._ Snape saw it every time he attended a revel, and more than once he had found himself on the receiving end of the crucio curse when Voldemort was displeased.

If anyone had a reason to dislike Willow Rosenburg it was he, and yet he now found himself feeling curious about her. She was a far cry from the arrogant witch he had been expecting, and he wondered what could have led her to dose up on dark magicks enough that ending the world seemed like the most sensible option.

.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.

Elsewhere in Hogwarts, someone else was still awake.

Draco Malfoy was laying in his bed, and staring at the dull white ceiling above him. He'd been distracted during the welcoming feast by the new teacher, Professor Rosenberg, and the Griffindor trio's reaction to her. He really did think he had picked up on something going on between them, but Blaise had well and truly doused that idea in cold water. Draco grunted in frustration. He should have known better than to expect Blaise to get excited about, well, anything short of the fiasco that had happened during the summer.

Blaise had certainly been agitated after his parents had decided to drop in on Luna Lovegood. Draco had talked to him a lot after that incident, and their friendship had been confirmed a couple of weeks later, when it had been he who had sought out Blaise's advice.

Predictable socialite, Narcissa Malfoy, had decided to defy her well-established reputation as a pretty trinket and arm decoration, and in one brief conversation had shaken the very foundations of Draco's meticulously planned life.

Since the mayhem in the Ministry of Magic, Lucius Malfoy had vanished, presumably gone into hiding with his beloved Lord Voldemort, and Narcissa had seen a clear field for her to voice her opinions for once. Draco had unexpectedly found out that his mother was damned glad that Lucius had vanished, and hoped he never returned.

"If he does come back, you will not be leaving with him, Draco," she had said, in between cursing the air blue.

As Draco shifted in his bed, to allow a little moonlight to fall on the picture he had pulled from beneath his pillow, he wished the summer had never happened. Everything had been so easy before; Lucius planned it all out for him. He would attend Hogwarts, become Head Boy, graduate top of his class and then join the Death Eaters and help Voldemort attain a glorious victory.

It had all seemed so simple. His entire life had soundly drummed the idea into his head that muggles were only barely above cattle, and no one objected to those animals being used for a purpose, and killed at the end of it.

_What did mother mean, blood doesn't matter? Mudbloods are tainted. I know they're tainted, so that proves blood matters, doesn't it?_

Draco frowned and rolled onto his side. The ceiling wasn't offering any answers, and neither could Blaise Zabini, who was fast asleep across the room. He had been supportive, but hadn't had any brilliant ideas for solving either of their problems.

_Do I –know- that mudbloods are tainted? They're part muggle. Muggles can't do magic. That makes them… different? Better? Worse?_

Narcissa had been so out of character in her announcement that Draco had almost wondered if someone was having him on, under the disguise of a polyjuice potion. One look in his mother's intense eyes had put that thought out of his mind, leaving him with a much more awkward concept to work through.

_Mother said that blood doesn't make me better, that a name isn't everything. But that's who I am. A Malfoy. A pureblood. Without that I've got nothing. It is worth giving all that up because she's suddenly had a change of heart? Do I even want to?_

.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.


	9. Worth It 7

Worth It

Chapter 7

A small red and green hurricane was ransacking Willow's rooms, in a desperate attempt to find her lesson plans. She was positive she had put them in her desk drawer. Definitely either there or on her sofa. Or maybe in her bag. The fact that she was tripping over her forest green robes wasn't helping.

"Crap, crap, crap!"

Finally finding the plans in the bathroom, where she had left them the previous night after reading over them while brushing her teeth, Willow grabbed her bag and ran for the Great Hall, praying she wasn't going to be late for breakfast. She slid in quietly and sat down, nibbling at her toast, while trying to spot the year fives that would be in her first class of that day. Thankfully it was a Griffindor / Ravenclaw class, she didn't know what she would do if she had to face the brats in her house first thing in the morning. Living near them was quite enough.

The butterflies in her stomach were apparently on helium as they were refusing to settle down, and she found she couldn't even look at the crispy bacon that was obnoxiously trying to cover her whole plate.

Willow could feel her palms slowly getting clammy, and tried to rub them discreetly against her robes. She started fiddling with her fork, scratching absently mindedly at a small chip in the handle that felt rough under her nail. Looking around the hall at the students, and trying to place names to faces, made Willow feel very lonely. She was sat on the teachers' table, of course, and while all of the students could blend into one another as they crowded onto their tables, Willow was on show at the front, for all eyes to stare at.

When breakfast was over she had to summon all her will power just to walk through the corridors to the small room that had been set up as her classroom. She could hear the children inside already, chatting loudly amongst themselves, and took a deep breath before opening the door. Silence immediately fell, as the students turned to look at her.

_Hoo-boy! This is it!_

She walked slowly towards the front of the classroom, in an attempt to give herself time to gather her nerves, while giving the students the impression that she was cool, calm and collected. Her desk was fairly large and set on the left side of the classroom, to allow the students a clear view of the chalkboard to the right. Behind her desk was a doorway leading to a small cupboard, although she had yet to find anything to put in it. You couldn't exactly keep a vampire in a closet. As she reached her desk and stood behind her chair to survey the classroom she could pick out a few whispers, and decided that maybe the five minutes she'd allowed in her plan for introductions wasn't going to be enough. Not by a long shot if she was reading the curious glances correctly.

"Hi," she said in her most confident voice, "I'm Professor Rosenburg, and I'll be taking you for Defence Against the Dark Arts this year."

A few murmurs rippled around the classroom and Willow sighed inwardly.

"Okay guys, I know you've had really crappy teachers in this subject. How about we just start with introductions? I'll take the register, and when you answer your name, tell me something about your experiences with this class before."

More murmurs, although Willow thought they might have been more positive ones this time. Then again, wishful thinking can do a lot for one's interpretation skills.

"Layla Adams"

"Here. Um," the small brunette looked slightly awkward, "what did you want to know about this class?"

"Just tell me about one of your teachers. Tell me about your last one, Professor Umbridge, I think it was?" Willow quickly tacked the question on the end of her statement. Wouldn't do any harm to let the students think that she hadn't been thoroughly briefed on the subject of Umbridge's dictatorship.

"She was from the Ministry of Magic," Layla said slowly, with a good few 'um's thrown in. She clutched at her DADA book defensively. "We did a lot of theory with her."

A snort came from the back of the room, and a low voice muttered, "We –only- did theory with her!"

Willow glanced in the direction of the voice, and recognised Ginny Weasley as its owner. She now firmly believed the story about Ginny Weasley having been shy and quiet when she started in Hogwarts to have been a sadistic joke. The little minx was anything but the wall flower that had been described to her by Dumbledore. Willow made a mental note to inform Dumbledore that saying someone has come out of their shell, did not suitably cover the fact that the someone in question was opinionated and held little respect for teachers of Defence Against the Dark Arts.

"Okay, you tell me about her then Ginny!"

_Let's see if that Griffindor courage will at least let one pupil give an honest description of their last teacher._ Willow thought to herself.

Ginny flushed slightly at the attention being directed onto her, but countered well and replied snidely, "No-one really liked Professor Umbridge. Apart from the Slytherins I mean. They did quite well by her."

Half the class was now screwed round in their seats, shooting scandalised looks at Ginny for mentioning their new professor's house, in much the same way you go to great lengths to not mention disability around the disabled, or World War II around the Germans. The other half, naturally, were scrutinising Willow to see how she would respond. In the following silence you could almost have heard the house elves tidying up in the kitchen.

Willow's face was impassive for a few seconds as she thought about how to answer that little statement, and then a grin stole across her face.

"Yeah, that sounds rather Slytherin, ruthless little buggers, aren't they?"

Ginny was grinning as well, and clamping a hand over Luna Lovegood's mouth as the blonde Ravenclaw had started explaining the origins of the word 'bugger'. The fact that Ginny was now smiling back, after the rather pointed comment about Slytherins, assured Willow that although she might not have given the most professional answer possible, it had definitely been the –right- answer.

Ginny relaxed and continued, "Well, Professor Umbridge didn't trust Dumbledore, thought he was just causing trouble for Fudge. That's why we only did theory – they reckoned if us little kiddies could actually do the spells we might use them against him."

"Really?" Willow said incredulously, "That's just so… so…" she shrugged and gave up searching for a polite answer, "so stupid!"

This time most of the class were smiling at her and voicing their agreement. Umbridge certainly hadn't had any fans in Griffindor or Ravenclaw. Even the ones that weren't smiling were nodding to themselves.

"Okay," Willow continued, the register forgotten, "so if you didn't do any practical with Umbridge, who else took you for this class?"

"Lockhart!"

"Mad-Eye Moody!"

"Professor Lupin." Ginny's clear voice reached over the rest, and Willow smiled and nodded.

"Yes, Professor Lupin, quite the best teacher you've had, I heard."

"He was a werewolf!" a random Ravenclaw piped up indignantly, then withered under Ginny's gaze. "He was a good teacher though," he added quickly.

"What's wrong with being a werewolf?" Willow asked, "I dated one."

Silence blanketed the classroom once more, as the children stared at Willow in shock. Who was this woman that was so young teaching them, talked to them so casually and had –dated- a werewolf? DADA lessons looked set to be interesting this year.

"Was that when you lived on the mouth of hell?"

Willow's gaze snapped to Luna, and she looked at the girl curiously. As far as she could remember none of the pupils, not even three Griffindors in the sixth year, had been told that she had come to them direct from the Hellmouth. Luna's face was blank though, and if she even realised Willow was surprised she wasn't showing it.

"What's the mouth of hell?" asked Layla Adams, confident in her right to ask questions. After all – she was the one who had been first to mention Umbridge. The Ravenclaws' intelligence meant they were fantastic at working through problems, even if the problem in question was the fact that they had been shown up by a fiery little Griffindor.

Willow glanced at the clock on the wall – already ten minutes over the allotted introduction time, and it looked as though the rest of the lesson probably wasn't going to be spent talking about Defence Against the Dark Arts. At least, not in the way Willow had meticulously planned.

Lesson plans were for wimps anyway.

.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.

During break that morning Willow wandered over to Professor Dumbledore's office and knocked tentatively on the door. Luckily the password for the gargoyles hadn't yet been changed, one mention of gummy bears and they had let her up the curling staircase.

Now she was waiting for the door to open, wondering if she was just being silly. Nonetheless, she just couldn't dismiss the nagging thought at the back of her mind, even though she'd been trying to push it away all morning.

As Dumbledore opened his office door, Willow smiled up at him.

"Not having trouble already, Willow?" he asked gently.

"No," Willow shook her head firmly, "No trouble, I'm actually here to talk to you about one of my students; Luna Lovegood."

"Ah." He gestured her into the office and closed the solid door behind them. The voices carried through in low, serious murmurs, and when they both emerged again, five short minutes later, Willow's expression was solemn.

"I thought you should know, Dumbledore. If I'm right, this isn't going to be easy for her."

"I have had my suspicions of the same thing, I must admit. Perhaps you could keep a close eye on Miss Lovegood, while she's in your class?"

"Oh yes, yes, sure!" Willow's enthusiasm was back, and bouncing. "Anything else I can do, just let me know, yeah?" As Dumbledore nodded his agreement, Willow turned and hurried down the staircase again, determined to get to at least the majority of her classes today before the students did.

Dumbledore, stood at the top of the stairs, was frowning as he watched the youngest member of staff disappear. He stroked his long beard with one hand, and absent-mindedly fumbled for the door handle with the other, still thinking about what Willow had come to tell him.

He was impressed that she had picked up so quickly, on what it had taken him a good many months to spot, and nodded approvingly to himself as he ambled back to his desk. Willow Rosenberg was quickly proving to be a valuable asset to the school, and he still hoped that she would eventually lend her talents to the Order of the Phoenix as well.

.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.

After school that day the children were milling about, some practising for Quidditch tryouts, some messing about in their common rooms, some, like Hermione Granger, were already knee deep into a pile of books in the library. Ginny and Luna had managed to sneak into an empty classroom, and were currently sitting on a couple of desks, talking. Luna had her feet on a nearby chair, and was making it swing back against her table, the sharp clunking noise of their collision punctuating her rant.

"I thought he bloody liked me, Gin. That stupid," –clunk- "stuck up," –clunk- "Slytherin!" –crack- She looked down at the chair and frowned, trying to pretend that the crack down the back had been there all along.

She had been friends with Blaise during her fourth year, when he had chosen to sit with her in the library as opposed to with his housemates, who were as usual testing how far they could push Madam Pince before she snapped and ordered them all out of her library.

For once, Blaise had actually felt like doing some work, and had informed Luna of this fact, adding on the end, "At least you're not a Griffindor, eh?"

She had quickly looked away from him, and stared at the Potions essay in front of her, which was steadfastly refusing to write itself. Blaise had been in an amiable enough mood, and had leaned over and given her a few pointers, and the occasional smile, before finishing his work and leaving. It hadn't been a long encounter, nor particularly warm, but it had opened the way for them to talk, or just nod when they found themselves passing each other in the corridor.

Now Luna was sure she knew why the handsome Slytherin had been so friendly towards her. "It was an act, it was just a stupid act so he could go and tell his mommy and daddy all about the daughter of the famous Mr Lovegood, and help them try and kidnap me. From my own house!"

Luna's voice was faltering and her tone was swinging wildly from choking back tears, to mocking and straight through to angry. She felt so vulnerable now. She never, never placed trust in people if they didn't prove themselves first – she had enough teasing from her own housemates to blindly accept a friendship that didn't seem true. Nonetheless, she had never seen any signs of insincerity in Blaise, never seen anything but honesty in his dark eyes. Damn but he was good.

Ginny quickly moved the already damaged chair away from Luna's feet, and went to sit next to her. Considering how calm Luna usually was, this outburst was unsettling Ginny, and for once she didn't know quite what to say. She settled instead for putting an arm around Luna's shoulder, and just letting the other girl sniffle quietly against her side.

"I can't believe I thought he actually liked me. Merlin, I'm such an idiot," she snorted. "Loony Lovegood."

"Don't say that Luna, you know it's not true." Ginny snapped. "It's bad enough other people saying it. I know you. I know it's not true, so don't bloody well start saying it yourself."

"Yeah well," Luna sighed, "if I'm not crazy then why did I even believe him?"

Ginny shrugged, more for her own benefit than Luna's, for the other girl was once more hiding behind her hair. She had believed in Blaise's friendship with Luna as well. Blaise didn't have many friends in his own house, because of his laid-back attitude, and it had seemed as though he had found a kindred spirit in calm little Luna. She could hardly believe what had happened, and knew that the resulting tragedies were weighing heavily on Luna's mind.

"He betrayed me Gin, and look what's happened. Maybe it would have been better if they had just let them take me. Did you see how guilty he looked on the train?" Fresh tears started to fall from Luna's eyes, and Ginny hugged her tightly.

"It wouldn't have been better Luna. The Order are going to get Tonks back, it'll be okay. You've still got me, don't worry." Ginny pushed her red hair back out of her face, and thought back to Blaise's surprising entrance, and speedy exit from their train carriage.

_Did he look guilty?_ she thought to herself, remembering the look in his eyes. _That wasn't guilt. That was something entirely different. His eyes looked so powerful. So sad. He didn't look guilty, he looked upset._

.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.

Blaise, at that particular moment in time, was in his bedroom with Draco, talking about the Death Eaters.

"Look Drake, I'm not saying I believe in their bloody cause, alright? I'm just saying I don't really fancy getting killed for not believing in it."

"And that's your sodding problem!" Draco yelled back, "You don't give a flying fuck about anything but yourself. You just think…"

"That's not true!" Blaise shouted, jumping to his feet. "You know that's not true, you bastard, don't you fucking dare tell me I don't care about anything."

"So you cared about the Ravenclaw chit, well she's still alive isn't she? Who was it that wanted her dead, Blaise? The Dark Lord. You really gonna join his side?"

"I…" Blaise deflated, and sank back down into his chair. "Look Drake, I don't know what to do."

"Neither do I, but you know what? We'd better figure it out soon."

.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.

Ginny and Luna were traipsing reluctantly back to their dormitories when they ran into Willow. Or more accurately Willow ran into them. The elder red-head had been dashing back to her rooms after finishing sorting out her classroom for the following day's lessons. There was a book packed somewhere with her belongings that was calling out to her to read, especially after the surprising turn her year five class had taken.

Luna ended up sprawled on the floor as she had been directly in Willow's way as the hurrying witch had rounded a corner. She sat up slowly and rubbed her elbow, which had been introduced to the floor at a high velocity.

"Oh my Goddess! Oh, I'm so sorry! I should have been looking where I was going. Oh Luna, please don't cry! I'm sorry." Willow pulled Luna back to her feet and started to frantically brush the girl down.

"Are you okay? Did you hurt anything?"

"No, I think my bum cushioned my fall," Luna sniffed. "Really, I'm okay. It's not… I mean, you didn't do anything." She glanced up at Willow from under hooded eyes, while biting her lip. Their new teacher was definitely cool, but Luna didn't know if she really wanted to be talking about her murderous-boy-problems to anyone apart from Ginny.

"Are you sure? Well, what's up then? Maybe I can help. You guys wanna come to my rooms? They're kinda Slytherin-y, but I'm working on that!" Willow was already herding the girls in front of her, and expertly manoeuvred them towards her painting. Years of guiding the rather goofy and absent-minded Xander to class had taught her well.

"Look," Willow turned to face the girls just outside her painting, "you don't have to trust me, or tell me what's wrong, but I really do want to help. I'm all new here so you don't have to worry about me working for the wrong guys – I hadn't even heard of them until a few days ago. But if you really don't wanna talk about it, that's cool too; we can just drink hot chocolate or something. I've even got the little marshmallows to go on top!"

A dark shadow detached itself from a patch of slightly darker shadows and drifted away down the corridor. Professor Snape had been witness to the whole touching scene outside Willow's chambers, and was now mulling it over in his mind.

He had been expecting an arrogant, pretentious witch, and yet Willow was either a very good actress, or she was a genuinely nice person. Someone who thought they were better than everyone, so much better that they had the right to end life as we know it, surely shouldn't be talking to the students about their problems and inviting them to their rooms for a chat and hot chocolate with – Snape could hardly believe it – marshmallows on top.

_So she isn't what you expected. What does that matter?_ he asked himself, and found to his disgust that it did matter. If the girl was that nice, then his actions earlier had been out of order.

When Snape had joined the Death Eaters he had thought they were fighting for honour, for the honour of their kind. Just because he could now see that there was nothing honourable in Voldemort's mission didn't mean that he valued the trait itself any less. There was also nothing honourable in the way he had treated Willow earlier, and the uncomfortable itch in his mind that just couldn't be scratched was forcing him to do something about it.

As Snape reached his rooms he swept in and sank down on his couch. Like Willow's rooms, his were dark green and black, although as opposed to Willow, he found the colour scheme very fitting to his personality. While he brooded on the couch his eyes wandered aimlessly around his possessions – a meagre collection of belongings padded out solely by his extensive book collection.

There was nothing else to be done, he realised, with a sinking feeling. He was going to have to apologise to Willow.


	10. Worth It 8

Worth It

Chapter 8

The next day everyone seemed to set out from their dorm rooms with a plan in mind. Snape had concluded that the only thing he could do was to seek out Willow, preferably in private, and apologise to her. He wasn't looking forwards to this in the slightest, and was toying with the idea of missing breakfast, so he wouldn't have to apologise to her in public. Despite his rather off-putting appearance, Snape did actually have some pride, and apologising to Willow at breakfast seemed equivalent to debasing himself in front of the whole school.

Luna was equally determined to just get through the day without thinking of Blaise. This plan lasted about as long as breakfast, when she spotted him coming into the Great Hall, and her stomach instantly tightened up.

Ginny, across the hall from Luna, had noticed Blaise walk in too. He had reached the Slytherin table and demanded a place by Draco when a plan occurred to Ginny. It was stupid and might well earn her a hex or two, but it was a plan. Blaise was friends with Draco. She was friends with Luna. If Luna told her everything that had happened, and how she was feeling, then maybe Blaise had confided in Draco.

Ginny tucked her hair behind her ears, and stared across the hall at Draco, who managed to ignore her for a record breaking seven minutes before finally turning round and glaring back.

_This is not a good idea, Ginny. _

She smiled at him, and coyly went back to eating her food. Across the hall, at the Slytherin table Draco was feeling rather confused. Griffindors weren't meant to smile at Slytherins. Griffindor girls especially were not allowed to smile at Slytherin boys; it was practically a rule. Draco was sure he could find it written down in some obscure book in the library.

As the students filed out to go to their classes, Draco's mind was still stuck on Ginny Weasley. The Weasleys hated him. Ron tried to lay into him every chance he got, Fred and George had used him as an unwilling guinea pig for some of their wilder pranks, and Ginny had… Draco paused.

_Well, okay, actually she hasn't done anything. That doesn't explain why she was staring at me._

His mind wandered in the morning's lessons, and his teachers started to prepare themselves for what they knew would undoubtedly be some form of junior death eater defiance, but it never came. Draco was too busy thinking about Ginny, to even worry about whether he was doing the right thing by following his mother's wishes. He was actually looking forwards to seeing her again at lunch, just to find out if she would be looking at him again.

Not that he wanted her to be looking at him, he reminded himself, after all she was still a Weasley. He just wanted to know why she was staring at him, and why, in the name of Merlin, she had decided to smile at him.

When lunchtime finally came Draco didn't have long to wait. Before he could even get into the Great Hall, a small hand grabbed a fistful of his neatly pressed robes – something that no-one would usually be allowed to get away with – and dragged him inside an equally small room.

"Um," said a quiet, feminine voice.

"Weasley?"

"Yeah."

"Why the hell have you pulled me into a cupboard?" Draco squinted down at her in the darkness of the supply closet that she had dragged him into. Even in the faint light that filtered through under the door, he could tell that her cheeks would be flushed to the same colour as her hair.

"I thought it was a classroom." Ginny shuffled awkwardly. She had meant to bring Draco inside an empty classroom, but had miscounted the doors. Now she was practically squashed into him, inside a small stuffy closet. Not that he was unattractive, far from it in fact. It's just that that so wasn't why she had been trying to get him alone. She reached for the handle, but Draco quickly pulled her arm back and she winced at his tight grip.

"Are you crazy?" he whispered harshly, "I don't know how many people saw you drag me in here Weasel, but I can do without even more people seeing us leave a hall closet together!"

"But," Ginny stammered, "I need to talk to you." She was quickly coming to the conclusion that as plans went, hers sucked.

"What makes you think I want to talk to –you-?" Draco sneered.

Ginny felt her herself starting to sweat, and she scowled at Draco, "Because it's about Blaise."

In the darkness she couldn't tell whether his expression had changed, but she could feel him tense up, and pressed home the small advantage she had gained. "About Blaise and Luna."

"I don't think that's any of your business."

"And I think that my best friend crying herself to sleep every night, because of –your- best friend rather makes it my business."

Draco was flummoxed. If Ginny Weasley knew what had happened between Blaise and Luna, then why would she want to talk to him about it? Inside a musty old closet, of all places. For once he didn't know what to say, and wasn't enjoying the feeling.

Ginny's bravado was gathering momentum, and every minute that Draco Malfoy was not hexing her gave her more courage. True, she hadn't planned on having this conversation inside a storage cupboard, but when she considered it, it seemed like a good thing for Draco to be unable to see her face. The darkness seemed almost protective, plus there wasn't really enough room for him to be able to cast hexes effectively.

"What do you want to talk about them for?" Draco said, in an oddly tight voice. He did not want to be talking about his and Blaise's allegiances to Ginny Weasley, and yet it seemed as though that was where this conversation was headed. How else could he explain to her that Blaise hadn't known what his parents were planning?

"Remember when you walked into our carriage on the train? I was looking at you two, and I saw Blaise's face. I saw his eyes Draco, and he was sad." Ginny paused for breath after rattling off her confession. She hadn't told anyone what she had seen in Blaise's eyes, not even Luna. She couldn't bear the thought that she might be wrong.

"Why was he sad, Draco?"

Draco didn't answer. He was too busy trying to keep his breathing calm.

_Sweet Merlin, the girl drags me in here and says she wants to talk about Blaise and Luna, and then she asks me why he's sad!_ Draco had been expecting accusations, maybe the implication that he had been involved too. He had thought that Ginny would be furious with Blaise, and with him for beings friends with Blaise, although being Slytherin was generally enough to invoke anger in Griffindors these days.

"Draco?"

Ginny was looking up at him, and he fancied he could see concern in her eyes. He was kidding himself, of course, he could scarcely tell where her eyes were, but the thought was comforting. She shuffled again, bumping up against him and he steadied himself against the cool wall behind him.

"For Merlin's sake Draco, say something!" Ginny hissed, and Draco focussed his attention back onto the fiery little girl who had actually summoned the courage to confront him. He choked back a rather manic giggle and stood up straight.

"He –was- sad." He paused, and smoothed out his robes, while trying to decide what to tell her. "I don't think I can tell you more than that. It's his business, not mine."

_There, that lets her know she's right, without telling her too much. If she knows more, Merlin knows whom she might tell. She'll figure out why he was sad._

Ginny hardly heard Draco saying that wouldn't tell her any more. She knew all that she needed to now, and was almost shivering with excitement. If Blaise had been sad on the train, then that had to mean that he was upset about Luna, and if he was upset about Luna that could only mean one thing - that he was upset about what had happened to her.

.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.

At the end of the day Willow was wearily making her way back to her rooms. It hadn't been an easy day and she had taught her first sixth and seventh year classes. The sixth year had been reasonable, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, but the seventh years had been Slytherin and Griffindor.

From the moment she had walked into the room she realised that this wasn't going to be an easy class to win over. The Slytherins hated her and wanted her out of their house, and the Griffindors hated her and wanted her out of their school.

By the time she had reached her rooms Willow had her mind firmly set on having a nice relaxing bath, and then curling up with a book. She didn't even want to venture out for dinner, and had already collected some food from the house elves in the kitchen.

As she turned into the corridor containing the entrance to her rooms she noticed a figure lurking outside her painting, and recognised it, with a sinking feeling, as being Professor Snape.

_Great. Just what I don't need right now, another dose of venom._ She grinned to herself, _Venom from the head snake, no less!_

"Can I help you, Professor Snape?" she asked, with exaggerated politeness.

Snape turned to face her, his internal monologue repeating the mantra, _You must apologise. You must apologise. _It was the last thing he actually wanted to be doing, seeing the firm set to Willow's mouth, and the friendliness that wasn't reflected by her body language. He sighed and opened his mouth to speak, when she cut him off.

"Or did you just want to insult me some more?"

He supposed he deserved it. From the start he had made his feelings towards her more than evident, and now he was reaping what he had sown. Still, her brash manner irritated him and he drew his robes about him and glared down at her. It was unnerving that such a slip of a girl, who had to look up to meet his gaze, could stare him down with such a calculated coldness.

"I wanted to apologise to you. My behaviour the other night was rude and uncalled for."

There, he had said it. He turned abruptly on his heel and stormed off down the corridor. The encounter hadn't been pleasant, but by apologising now at least he could clear his conscience of one burden; his other sins being far too deeply etched. Saying sorry to a grave marker did little to alleviate guilt.

Willow was left gaping down the corridor after him, mouth open and eyes wide. Had the bat out of hell actually said sorry to her? Her ears told her that he had, and yet all of her reasoning powers were screaming at her that it couldn't have happened. Nasty, slimy potions masters did not spend one night screaming insults at you, and then come and apologise the next day.

She entered her rooms in a daze, and sank down onto her couch to think. Why on earth would he have had such a change of heart to feel bad about what he had done, let alone to summon the courage to apologise to her face to face?

.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.

After the students were meant to be in their dorms that night Ginny planned to sneak out to meet Luna. She hadn't, however, counted on Ron being suspicious about her whereabouts the previous evening. He had been to find Hermione and Harry and after much explaining, complete with vigorous hand gestures, had persuaded them to help him keep an eye on Ginny.

When Ginny snuck through the common room that night she didn't realise the dream team were watching her. Squashed together under Harry's invisibility cloak, the three children hardly dared to breathe as Ginny slipped past them, and out through the door. After waiting a moment they eased open the portrait of the fat lady and quietly begged her to tell them which way Ginny had gone.

Ginny was making good her escape, and congratulating herself on getting out of Griffindor tower without being spotted. She quietly scurried through the corridors that led to the room where Luna would be meeting her. The old castle seemed so quiet at night, a dramatic difference to the day time, when the old corridors buzzed with the laughter and movement of the children. Every few steps, Ginny would pause and look around her, sure that she could hear footsteps following here, but there was never anything to be seen.

_If it was Snape, he wouldn't just be following me. He'd be shouting by now._ With this reassurance Ginny continued her night time wanderings and the dream team, who had to keep stopping every time Ginny looked about her, continued to trail her.

The closer Ginny got to the room she would be meeting Luna in, the surer she became that someone was following her. It wasn't a nice feeling, and it settled in on her like snow landing, sending an icy chill down her back. Being alone in such dark and imposing corridors, with so many people staring down at her from the paintings she scarcely noticed during the day was scaring Ginny. Anyone could be following her. It could be a Slytherin. It could be her brother, and it was a testament to Ginny's feelings towards Ron that she hoped her tracker –was- a Slytherin. At least they wouldn't write home and tell her mother.

Finally the feeling of being watched got too much for her, and Ginny crept very, very slowly towards the corner ahead of her, slunk round it and then started to run. Her feet were making more noise now, and she was praying to whatever gods would listen that Filch wouldn't be near enough to hear. As she dashed through the few corridors remaining between her and her destination she felt cold from the night air, which seemed to hang in front of her in a heavy blanket. It was almost palpable, and as she breathed it in, in ragged gasps, it chilled her from the inside out.

Nature's survival mechanism was kicking in, and she felt adrenaline flow through her, making her breathing come erratically and sending shivers down her arms and legs. If someone had managed to keep up with her long enough to touch her shoulder, she would have jumped out of her skin with fright.

Casting one last glance over her shoulder she reached the classroom and careened in, just managing to resist the urge to slam the door shut. No-one seemed to be hot on her trail, and Luna was sitting comfortably at the teacher's desk with a confused expression on her face. Ginny swept her hair out of her eyes and quietly turned round and shut the door.

Ron, Harry and Hermione were stuck. When Ginny had rounded the corner and started running they hadn't know whether to follow her or not. If they had run to keep up with her they would never have been able to stay hidden under the invisibility cloak, but if they had been careful and stayed hidden they wouldn't be able to keep up. In the end they spent long enough agonising over what to do that Ginny was well away.

Ron pushed himself out from under the cloak in disgust.

"Where the hell does she think she's going? She's meant to be in bed!" he shouted, and slammed his hand against the wall to emphasise his point.

"Ron! Shush! We're meant to be in bed too!" Hermione whispered desperately, but the damage had already been done, and Snape rounded the corner with a triumphant expression on his face.

"Ah, Mr. Potter, might I ask what you are doing out of bed?" Snape asked in the silky tones of someone who knows he's finally got one over on a despised enemy.

"Sir, we were…" began Hermione.

"Is your name Potter?" Snape rounded on her. "I want him to explain himself."

"He hasn't done anything, I wanted him to come out!" Ron protested, drawing Snape's unforgiving wrath away from Harry for a second.

"I do not want to hear your excuses, Weasley!" Snape said grimly. The three of them had interrupted him thinking about Willow, and as a result they were not going to get any lenience from him. Potter was a continual thorn in Severus' side, from his father's bullying when Severus' had been in school to Potter suddenly becoming the saviour of the wizarding world, merely because he had not died while a baby.

Severus Snape hated Harry Potter for living. He hated him for being famous for living because it had required no skill or talent. He hated him for living because Lily had died. He hated him for being the sweetheart of the wizarding world, while Snape himself was nobody. Snape could have died at Lord Voldemort's hand on several occasions, but he hadn't. He still risked his life on a regular basis to provide information for the Order of the Phoenix, but he wasn't praised for it. He would always be looked down on for being a slimy potions master, for being a Death Eater.

Little things like this made it almost bearable.

"One hundred points off…"

"Ah, Severus, I see you are escorting the children to our meeting."

Snape's mouth hung open, midway through docking points, and he stared at the headmaster in confusion. This couldn't be happening. The children were out of bed, after hours. The old man surely couldn't be making excuses for them. They were sneaking around under an invisibility cloak for pity's sake!

The children looked equally shocked themselves. They had been bracing themselves for a major loss of house points, and no one had heard Dumbledore arriving. They knew they didn't have a meeting with him, so why was he out wandering the corridors, and claiming they were en route to see him?

"Meeting?" Snape asked feebly.

"Yes, yes!" Dumbledore assured him with a grin, "I asked the children to come and have a chat with me tonight. I'll take them from here, shall I?"

Before waiting for Snape to respond, which could likely have taken all night, Dumbledore hurried down the corridor with the three children in tow. Snape was left by himself in a dark corridor, with a rather horrible expression developing on his face. He had caught them, and then Dumbledore had to come to the rescue. It wasn't fair. He made a choking sound and stared at the portrait opposite him for a while, before walking stiffly back to his rooms, cursing the day Harry Potter joined Hogwarts.

.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.

As the three Griffindors entered Dumbledore's office they shared glances that were equal parts curiosity and nervousness. They had been out of bed after hours, and now they were facing the headmaster. The fact that he had told Snape they were to be meeting him troubled them, and they looked eagerly up at the old man for answers.

Dumbledore's office was well lit, even at that late hour, and more than a hundred candles burned in different places about the room. Some were in wall brackets, some in elaborate candelabras, and some merely floated a few inches off the ceiling, their smoke curling up in the corners, and drifting down to the windows.

The headmaster had made himself comfortable in an armchair by the large wood fire across the room from his desk, and he gestured to the children to join him in the more relaxed and informal setting.

As they sat down, their confusion reached a peak, and Ron couldn't contain himself any longer.

"What's happening, Sir?"

Albus calmly looked at Ron, and answered, "You were out of bed after hours. Professor Snape was about to take house points."

Hermione valiantly resisted the urge to put her hand up before speaking, "But you stopped him, Sir."

"Yes, Hermione. I had rather wanted to talk to you three alone, and it seemed like as good an opportunity as any."

"How'd he know we were there?" Ron whispered to Harry, who shrugged and looked at Dumbledore, who had an unmistakable twinkle in his eye.

"Professor Willow Rosenberg," he announced, and looked at the three faces in front of him. Hermione was almost on the edge of her seat with anticipation over what he was about to tell them, whereas Ron was slumped backwards, looking off to one side and scowling. Albus would have his work cut out there, he was certain. Harry looked neither eager, nor disappointed, just politely curious to hear what would be said.

"I know you have not had many competent Dark Arts professors," Albus continued, "but I would like to ask you to all give Miss Rosenberg the benefit of the doubt. You all met her once, and seemed to get on before she was sorted into Slytherin."

Ron snorted his objection.

"Almost all of you got on well with her," Albus continued seamlessly, "and I would like to assure you that the fact that she has been sorted into Slytherin does –not- call her character into question. I am satisfied with her allegiances, and I would ask you to respect the fact that I know far more about this remarkable young woman than you do as yet."

"She tried to end the bloody world!" Ron exploded, "Doesn't that say enough?"

"Ron!" Hermione protested, but Dumbledore waved her into silence.

"Do you know why she tried to end the world, as you so dramatically put it, Mr. Weasley?" Dumbledore asked patiently. "If you do not, then you do not know this woman."

.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.

The young lady in question was also on a night time exploration of the castle, in an attempt to find Professor Snape, who she knew would be patrolling the corridors. Little did she guess that he had already had enough of the students and had retired in a foul mood to his chambers.

As Willow wandered through the corridors she neared the room in which Ginny and Luna were talking. Ginny had just finished explaining her dramatic entrance to Luna, who had assured her that it was probably a night time kevyl that was following her. Apparently a kevyl was a small mammal with large eyes, adapted for night time vision, and was only to be found in old buildings. The school was perfect habitat for it.

As the girls relaxed their conversation became loud enough for Willow, wandering the nearby corridors, to catch faint echoes of it. Curious, she followed the sound of the voices until she was outside the room where the girls were now talking about Draco. She was torn between her duty as a teacher to punish children out of their dorms after hours, and her need to understand what was happening between Luna and Blaise.

"You pulled Draco Malfoy into a supply cupboard?" Luna squeaked!

Well, that wasn't what Willow had been expecting to hear. She leaned against the wall next to the door, and strained to hear more. After Luna's outburst the girls had quietened down again, and were speaking in hushed voices. The urge to listen in defeated Willow's ethics, and she concentrated hard, creating a spell that would allow her to hear what was being said inside the room. Then she just leaned back, and waited to see what would come next.

"I asked him about something. You might be angry with me." Ginny admitted slowly, not quite wanting to look Luna in the eyes. Of course, telling her best friend what she had learned meant she had to admit to her initial suspicions from the train, and Ginny wasn't looking forwards to Luna's reaction.

"What did you ask him?" Luna said quietly. She had no idea why Ginny would consider talking to Draco Malfoy of all people. She would never have had the nerve to pull him into a closet and question him. It had to be something very important that Ginny had asked, otherwise she would never have risked upsetting the prince of Slytherin.

Willow, outside the door, was on tenterhooks as well. She didn't know that Ginny had been to talk to Draco and had reached the same conclusion as Luna; it had to be something very, very important for Ginny to defy her house and seek out conversation with a Slytherin. Not just any old Slytherin either, one of the most feared and respected boys in the house. Willow had learned this quickly. Draco Malfoy was not someone to be messed with, even with his father publicly outed as a Death Eater. Maybe more so because of it, in fact.

"You know when Blaise came into our carriage on the train?" Ginny continued carefully, not wanting Luna to become upset again. "You weren't really looking at him, were you?"

Luna, calm as she was, coloured up a bit and opened her mouth to protest that she didn't –want- to be looking at the person who had betrayed her trust so cruelly.

"No, I mean, that's not a bad thing. You were upset. That's understandable." Ginny hastily added, before Luna could explain. "I just meant that you didn't see the look on his face. Oh Luna, he looked so upset. He walked in and saw you, and his eyes were so sad. That's what I asked Draco about; whether Blaise was upset on the train."

Willow's heart was in her mouth on hearing those words.

_Oh Goddess, please let this be true. Please, just let this be true, and I'll be a good little witch, I swear it. I'll even join the Order!_

Luna was staring at Ginny with the oddest expression on her face. She felt as though she had a lump in her throat that was stopping her from breathing, let alone talking. Her stomach was suddenly in turmoil, it felt as though it had a fire burning in it and the heat rushed through, bringing a blush to Luna's usually pale cheeks.

"What…" Luna began, and bit her lip. Did she really want to know what Draco had said? "What did he say?"

"He said yes!" Ginny announced triumphantly.

"But," Luna said with a tremble to her voice, "why would he be upset?"

Willow knew why and her heart was singing as she hugged herself. She only just managed to keep herself from laughing in delight, but as it would have given the game away she managed to control it and her sides shook with the effort. Blaise had to be a good guy!

"You idiot!" Ginny hissed, with a smile that softened her words, "He couldn't have known what his parents were going to do! He was upset about what happened!"

Willow decided she had heard enough and walked away from her post outside the room, grinning to herself like a lunatic all the way back to her room. She scarcely noticed the time, or how cold the corridors were. She had more important things to think about.

If Blaise was a good guy, then was Draco as well? He was best friends with Blaise, surely that couldn't happen if they were on different sides in this war. The thought brought her back down to earth with a bump. This was a war they were caught up in. A war being fought by children inside the very school. The Slytherin boys wouldn't have anyone to talk to. Snape was hardly a good confidant, the Slytherins probably knew he was a Death Eater, their fathers would have told them so.

Willow decided as she got back to her room, that the very next day she would seek out Draco and Blaise and talk to them. If she was right in her guess then they might well need someone to confide in, and she was a teacher now after all.

"Please Goddess," she whispered, "let me help them."

.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.


	11. Worth It 9

Worth It

Chapter 9

Willow's lessons passed in a blur the following day. Teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts was one thing, but saving two boys from the dark side; that was what Willow was about. Her focus paid off in class as well, for when the year three Slytherins started messing around she found that she had no time for their nonsense and soon let them know exactly who was in charge in her classroom.

She was intent on being a friend to the children, but they needed a teacher as well, and Willow was not about to let her lessons descend into chaos just because the Slytherins resented her being placed in their house. By the end of the day her mind was buzzing with all the things that she could say to Draco and Blaise to encourage them to open up to her.

She managed to catch them as they were leaving the Great Hall after dinner that night, and asked them to come to her rooms with her. Neither boy was really thrilled with the idea of have a heart to heart with their newest Slytherin professor, but they could hardly refuse. Draco was berating himself for ever talking to Ginny Weasley, guessing that Ginny had run straight to Willow to tell her everything.

Blaise himself expected the talk to be about the incidents of the summer, though he couldn't fathom why the new professor had taken it upon herself to have the talk that Dumbledore and Snape had already had with him. He'd denied all knowledge of his parents attack on Luna, and was slightly insulted that neither teacher seemed to believe he was actually telling the truth.

As they got inside Willow's rooms she bustled about, tidying up the cushions on the couch, and straightening the paperwork on the desk up. The boys stood next to each other just inside the doorway, looking around, but feeling too awkward to move. They were both tense, and as a result were caught rather off guard when Willow bounced up and asked if they wanted marshmallows in their hot chocolate.

Confused, they both declined, and she shrugged and wandered into the kitchen area to make the drinks.

"Just sit down on the couch, it's not gonna hurt you," she called over her shoulder, and smiled encouragingly at the two bewildered Slytherins.

Draco came to his senses first, and scowled at the floor as though it were responsible for his unease before starting towards the couch, reaching back to grab Blaise and dragging him along determinedly. As Willow hummed to herself, with her back to them, the boys looked at each other, shrugged and began examining the room they were in.

It was clearly a Slytherin room, although Willow had been trying to brighten it up, with red cushions, and some flowers in a vase on the desk. On the whole it looked as though the black and green décor was being treated as a background nuisance, and Willow had been trying to cover it up with a few small items of colour.

As she presented them with their hot chocolates, causing more bemused glances, Willow said brightly, "You're probably wondering what I want to talk to you about."

Both boys nodded cautiously and she continued in an off-hand fashion, "I don't think you wanna be the bad guys any more."

Draco and Blaise froze staring down into their hot chocolates, and Willow sighed. She hadn't expected the direct approach to work, but she couldn't think of any way to casually drop it into conversation.

_So, how are you enjoying your lessons, and by the way, do you want to become Death Eaters?_ It didn't really seem like an option.

"I don't know what you mean." Draco said evenly, looking up at her.

"Oh come on! Quit the you-know-what, guys!"

Blaise was still studiously observing his hot chocolate, which, he noticed, had little melting marshmallows bobbing around the top. He was trying to figure out why Willow would think they didn't want to be Death Eaters. The marshmallows suggested it was because she liked hot chocolate. On the whole he was mystified.

Draco was planning the different and interesting ways in which he could hex Ginny Weasley. He could make her burp slugs, like her brother had been. That seemed a little bit too tame though. Maybe he could give her the bat bogey hex, and then the jelly legs one. That would be good, especially if he could do it in the Great Hall, in front of everyone.

_That sodding Griffindor!_ he raged to himself.

"I get that you don't know who to trust, you know," said Willow in a conversational tone. "It seems like your problems are so huge that if you even let one person share them it could all blow up in your face."

Draco carefully put his mug down on the table, and stared at her. A small part of him felt as though a huge weight had been lifted. The rest of him was clamping down on that feeling as hard as it could. He couldn't let himself trust anyone; the risk was far too great. It would be so nice to be able to talk to someone else about what was happening and the fact that he knew he couldn't, made it almost too much to bear. He felt his chest tighten and swallowed down a lump that had suddenly risen in his throat.

"I still don't know what you mean," he said, and as Willow started to protest he continued, "and even if I did, how would I know I could trust you? You're the same as Snape."

"I am not!" Willow objected, a bit more forcefully than she had intended. To be compared to Snape, even if he had apologised to her, was rather insulting, and depressing as well. She had so hoped to be thought of as a friend, not an uptight, stuffy teacher.

"You don't know me Draco. All you think you know is that I'm the new DADA professor, and I'm in Slytherin, right? Don't you want to know who I really am?"

That caught Draco's attention all right. Ever since the night of the welcoming feast he had been puzzling about the dream team's reaction to Willow's arrival and now he might just find out.

"I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours."

Of course, there was always a catch.

"Hang on, why do you think we're not interested in being the bad guys?"

The interruption came from Blaise, who had finally found inspiration in his hot chocolate.

Willow shrugged. "I over heard some people talking."

"She didn't actually tell you then?" Draco asked before he could stop himself, leaving Blaise looking all the more confused.

"No, Draco," said Willow wryly, "she didn't tell me. The people in question were out of bed and talking in a classroom late at night. I over heard them, and thought their conversation was too important to be interrupted with the loss of house points."

Willow looked over at Blaise, who had sunk back against the cushions on the couch, still clutching the hot chocolate. His hair was falling down across his face, almost hiding his sulky expression. She couldn't help laughing; he looked just like a little kid that's being left out of his friends' secret.

As he looked up indignantly she said, "Don't worry, I'll tell my story, and then you'll understand what we're on about, mmkay? Now, are we all sitting comfortably?"

Willow perched herself on the edge of the coffee table, and took a deep breath. No big deal, just telling your deepest darkest secret to a couple of Slytherin boys. She had to though. If she wanted to earn their trust, she had to prove that she trusted them in return.

Draco and Blaise were both looking intently at her, wondering what her story could possibly be. At least Draco had the advantage of knowing how the whole affair had started - with Ginny Weasley in a cupboard. He was the one who would have to admit to wanting to switch sides though. Merlin help him! It was the first time he had thought of it like that – wanting to switch sides. It sounded so much easier when it was just doing what his mother wanted. At least Blaise had never really picked a side to begin with.

"So, we start off in Sunnydale. Believe me when I say that's not a nice place to live. Its other names include the Hellmouth, or Boca Del Inferno. I always called it home, at least until Buffy arrived. Buffy Summers is a vampire slayer. I don't know if you've ever heard of them. There's this whole speech that normally goes with that announcement, but I can't quite remember it. You gotta have Giles say it anyway, he's her watcher."

Draco and Blaise had forgotten their hot chocolates, and were staring wide eyed as Willow continued.

"Well, a vampire slayer is this girl who has super powers. Powers given to her so she can kill demons. She does what Dumbledore does; she fights the forces of darkness. Just she kinda likes to hit things rather than cast a spell. Giles was her watcher. He trained her to be the best slayer ever. And she's died twice, but she's still fighting, so I guess that means he did a good job."

"Died?"

"Twice?"

"Yeah, one time she drowned, but Xander got to her just in time and gave her the kiss of life. It's a muggle life saving technique. Anyhow, she came back. That's where stuff started getting weird, see when a slayer dies, another one's supposed to be called."

"Called?" Blaise asked quietly, trying not to interrupt, but still curious enough to ask.

"Yeah, like they get their powers activated and they have to take up the fight. Thing is another one got called when she died, but when she was brought back they didn't get un-called. We had two slayers."

"Isn't that a good thing?"

"Yeah, doesn't that mean you've got two people fighting?"

"Well yeah, the first slayer was Kendra. She was killed by a vampire. Then Faith was called. Faith is still alive and fighting for us, after spending a few years trying to kill us, then in a coma and then in jail. She got confused. That's not an excuse for killing people, but it shows that you can change if you really want to."

The boys shuffled uncomfortably. That point was hitting far too close to home for either's comfort.

"You said Buffy died twice," Draco pointed out.

"Yeah, the second time was really spectacular. Um, in a bad way." Willow frowned at her choice of words. "Well, it really was spectacular. We were fighting a hell god. She was trying to use Buffy's sister Dawn, who I will tell you all about later, to open a portal to her own dimension. She just wanted to go home I guess, but to open the portal she needed Dawnie's blood. Then it was open and there were monsters coming through. Buffy beat Glory in the end, but the portal wouldn't close until Dawn's blood stopped running."

Willow stopped talking, and took a deep breath. The two Slytherin boys were waiting expectantly to hear what happened, although they were trying valiantly to temper their expressions with concern, it couldn't hide the curiosity.

It was strange to be thinking back on what had happened to the Scooby gang. Willow felt a sudden pang of homesickness hit her. Suddenly she wanted to see Buffy and Dawn and Xander again. They had been through so much together. Heck, she would even have been happy to see Faith.

"Buffy climbed onto the tower where Dawn was, and untied her. She dragged Dawn back to the stairs and then…" Willow found that she was starting to get tearful remembering what had happened, "then she just ran and jumped off the platform. She did this really beautiful swan dive and landed in the middle of the portal. The portal closed, and she was dead."

"What happened then? Did you do that kiss of life thing again?" Draco asked eagerly.

"The kiss of life can save people who've drowned, but death by mystical portal is a bit harder to fix," said Willow wryly.

"So how come she's still fighting then?" Blaise ventured. "I get the kiss of life thing, it's like saving someone before they're really dead, right?"

"Mmm, I guess that's about it."

"But bringing someone back from the dead," Draco followed Blaise's line of thought, "I don't know if even Voldemort can do that."

Willow found to her disgust that she was blushing. She shouldn't be proud of herself, she had torn Buffy out of heaven. The slayer had finally found peace, and she had been so selfish, kidding herself that Buffy was in hell. They brought her back because they needed her, regardless of what Buffy needed.

"We brought her back."

"How?" asked both boys in unison.

"I did a spell. Put her back in her body. She woke up in her coffin." Willow fought back a shudder, "It was horrible. She was in heaven and we pulled her out. –I- pulled her out because I thought we needed her."

"You pulled…" Blaise broke off, trying to contemplate how this young woman could have done a spell that powerful.

"I've never even seen you do magic!" Draco interjected. "You don't even have a wand!"

"I don't need one."

No one spoke for a few minutes. Willow stared self-consciously down at her cuffs, while the boys just gazed in blank silence at her. She still had the biggest confession yet to make, and had no idea how she was going to go about it. The boys had barely moved since her last admission, and she could feel their eyes burning into her.

_Oh well, just go for it I suppose._

"After that we had the slayer back and everything was going fine for a while. I started playing about with my magicks some more. Experimenting, you know. Maybe I shouldn't have been using them quite as much as I was. My girlfriend broke up with me because of it."

Time heals all wounds, but it takes a while to do so, and talking about what had happened to Tara still brought tears to Willow's eyes.

"I loved her so much. It was killing me to be apart from her, so I stopped using magick. We got back together and started to mend our relationship when… There were these three guys that had been trying to get at Buffy for a while. One of them had a gun and he shot Buffy."

She knew she was speaking slowly, the words were coming out in short fractured sentences. It was so hard to actually say the words; Willow had to force them out. Talking about it stirred up all of the old feelings of loss. Kennedy had eased them for a while, but after being activated the girl had freaked out. Willow hadn't seen her since they had stopped driving on the last day Sunnydale had existed.

"He fired another bullet. It missed Buffy. He killed Tara. She died in my arms."

Tears were rolling down Willow's face now, and the boys were mute with shock. Both of them felt so much for the professor they barely knew, and yet neither felt as though they could say anything or comfort her. What could you say to someone who had their love killed in front of their eyes? Slytherins weren't known for their compassionate nature. So they just sat still and waited for Willow to continue her story. It was so quiet in the room, all they could hear was the occasional sniffle from Willow and their own breathing, coming in long drawn out sighs.

"The Gods wouldn't bring her back. I charged up on dark magick. All of the dark arts books I could find, I sucked dry. I killed the guy that did it. No," she snuffled, "I tortured the guy who did it. I skinned him alive. It didn't even make it better. I was so charged up, I couldn't think any more, I was just running on dark magicks. Giles came and tried to stop me, dosed me up on good magicks, but it didn't stop me. Everything hurt so much. I had so much magick running through me, I could feel everything. I could feel the whole world, and it was in pain."

Willow choked back a sob, and looked up at her audience. Blaise's usual tan skin was paler than normal, and Draco was staring at her, mouth open.

"You're her," he breathed.

"The whole world was hurting, and I had to do something about it. I tried to end it. If everything was dead, then there wouldn't be any pain any more. I'd have managed it if it weren't for Xander. He kept telling me that he loved me. Despite everything he loved me."

"You're the witch that tried to end the world," Draco said in amazement.

Willow buried her face in her hands, trying to shut out the memories. The boys looked at each other in shock. Suddenly Blaise leant forwards and gently brushed the back of Willow's hand. He could feel her tears leaking through between her fingers. She slowly and shakily raised her head, revealing red eyes and a quivering bottom lip.

"I'm sorry, I'm meant to be telling you a story, aren't I?" she said, with false bravado.

"It's okay, it's evidently not a fun story to tell." Blaise reassured her.

After a few more deep breaths Willow managed to regain control of her emotions. She was so good at bottling them up, but that was what had led to the whole world-ending saga. Now her floodgates were slightly weakened.

"Okay, so after that was," she paused, searching for the right word, "finished. I went to study with a coven here in Britain. I learnt to control my magicks a bit better. Thank the Goddess I went because trouble was coming. The First was back."

"The first?"

"The first what?"

"The first evil."

"Hang on, I've read about that. The first evil is supposed to be raw power," said Draco, looking a bit sheepish, "it was in one of my father's books."

He cast a sly glance at Willow, to see whether she knew what it meant, that he had been reading his father's books. Evidently it either hadn't come up in conversation, or the young professor was too caught up in her past to notice it.

"The first evil started killing off all the slayers in waiting. All the young girls who stood a chance of becoming slayers if the current slayer, Faith, died. Well, we realised this and started gathering the girls ourselves. We trained them up as slayers and finally faced the first evil. It had created an army of super vampires. You know normal vampires die through sunlight, staking, beheading, right?"

"Yeah, just about." The look on Blaise's face was evidence of how well his DADA classes had been going for the past few years.

"These guys were tough. There was no way we could fight them, even with all the girls we'd trained up, because trained though they were they didn't have slayer strength or reflexes. That's where I came in again. I changed the slayer magick. I activated all of the slayers. Now every girl who can be a slayer, will be a slayer."

"So you won."

"Well obviously we won, or else you'd have heard about a plague of uber vampires sweeping through America!" Willow smiled, "We managed it with Spike's sacrifice. More on that some other time."

She held up a hand to silence any further questions.

"Now it's your turn." She looked at the boys expectantly, and they both looked at each other, neither wanting to be the one to go first.

"Hang on," Blaise piped up, "what was all that at the start, about you eaves dropping on someone?"

Willow glanced over at Draco. He looked as though he had been hoping Blaise would forget about that little part of the story. At Willow's questioning glance he shrugged and nodded.

"Right. I overheard Ginny talking to Luna. She had wanted to know whether you were upset about Luna, and managed to corner Draco in a supply closet, was it? Anyhow, she told Luna that you –were- upset." Willow paused to catch her breath, "Why are you upset?"

"I didn't know!" Blaise cried out. "I never knew what my parents were going to do. That's all I've been telling you people and no one fucking believes me. Why are you any different?"

He had sat up as he was shouting and was almost in Willow's face by the end of his rant, as it was she only just caught his last question as his voice trailed away to less than a whisper, and he sank back down into the couch.

"Why am I different? I guess I don't know you. I don't know what you've been like for the past years Blaise. I don't know what your parents are like, or what Voldemort's like."

Both Slytherins stiffened at the mention of the Dark Lord's name, and Willow winced to herself.

_Oops, not meant to say 'Voldemort'!_

"Why do you care about her, Blaise?" Willow asked softly.

"She's a nice girl," he said while shrugging. "I don't know why I like her, I just do. I swear, I never knew what my parents were going to do."

"It's okay, I believe that. I just want to know why two of the Dark Lord's supporters are getting involved with one little Ravenclaw girl."

"Hey!" Draco snapped. "I am not –involved- with anyone."

"You talked to Ginny Weasley about it, didn't you? That's shocking enough from what I've seen of Griffindor and Slytherin interaction."

"Okay, so I talked to the damn girl, that doesn't mean I'm going to come over all goody two shoes. His love life isn't exactly worth dying for."

Draco folded his arms across his chest and stared defiantly at Willow. She looked him up and down from his teenage slouch to the pout that seemed to be appearing on his face. She couldn't help herself – she started to giggle.

"What's so bloody funny?" asked Draco, scowling at the evident mocking of his resolve.

"Nothing!" gulped Willow. "You just look kinda snooty."

This time when she dissolved into giggles Draco had to suffer the added humiliation of Blaise chuckling along with her.

"It's not like you're going to risk your neck!" Draco pointed out.

"Nah," Blaise replied, "but at least I'm not pouting."

"Piss off."

"So!" Willow chipped in, before the conversation could go further downhill. "I really do think that someone needs to explain things to Luna. She's been hurting very badly since the summer, and you need to fix what your parents have done. Maybe Draco could talk to Ginny, ya know, start things off."

As she ushered them out of her rooms, prying the hot chocolate mug from Blaise's fingers, Willow was smiling to herself. That evening she had really accomplished something. The Slytherin boys weren't the junior Death Eaters everyone thought them to be, Blaise really did care for Luna, and Draco might just wind up having to talk to Ginny Weasley again.

.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.

That night Luna woke up with a jump. She had been dreaming about hairy toed knoffles, when the dreamscape had seemed to melt away, leaving her watching Blaise. He was laying in bed, and staring up at the ceiling. The look on his face was calm if you were just glancing, but Luna knew Blaise. She could see from his face that inside his head a storm was raging, and his dark brown eyes seemed to be melting with sorrow and anger.

As the hairy toed knoffles started clawing their way back into her dream, Luna thought she heard Blaise say something. Over the squealing of the knoffles she fancied that she could just about make out one word.

"Luna."

.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.


End file.
